


If You'll Have Me

by calciferian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, I play fast and loose with canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mutual Pining, Rating May Change, Touch-Starved, anyways we all hate count varley here, background Edeleth, hubert is murder-y i mean cmon it's HUBERT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26685997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciferian/pseuds/calciferian
Summary: “But...?” Dorothea said, waiting for him to continue.Hubert sighed. “But I have been thinking.”“Thinking? Dangerous.” Dorothea clicked her tongue.—With Edelgard's marriage to Byleth looming, Hubert von Vestra finds himself thinking about love. Bernadetta von Varley returns to Enbarr suddenly, and Hubert realizes some things. When the two are thrust together on a trip to Varley Territory, can they come to terms with their feelings?
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 103
Kudos: 100





	1. easy happiness

Edelgard won the war.

Of course she had. Hubert had done his duty, had followed his dear emperor to the bitter end; with their Professor leading the charge. He had been Edelgard’s right hand man, of course, but Edel needed their professor in a way Hubert had, at one point in his life, found himself unable to understand. In the years since, Hubert had long let go of any romantic aspirations. The only thing, the one sticking point, the thing that Hubert had problems with was: what now?

The war was over. Edelgard and Byleth were planning their marriage, both women overjoyed to finally have time to celebrate their love. Hubert was happy for them as well. With everything the professor had done for them, had done for Edelgard—she deserved this happiness. It was hard fought. She made Edelgard happy, at least, and that was more than enough for Hubert.

The problem with living your life for another person and another cause, fully and completely, is that when that person finds someone and your cause comes to its end—its happy one, at that—is that it is hard to move forward. Hard might be putting it lightly. Hubert felt almost paralyzed by it. The Empire still had plenty of enemies, and those that slither in the darkness had to be wiped out, but that work wouldn’t last forever, would it?

When he saw Edelgard and Byleth together, joyous, loving, his own heart ached. He had once thought he couldn’t feel such things; no want nor desire for something other than what he had. Dorothea had once told him that loving another was a matter of wanting to be loved in turn, and only now was he starting to understand. He wanted what they had; not out of a desire to have Edelgard for himself, but out of a desire to be loved. 

Without the war to focus on, Hubert’s mind was left to turn inward, and turn it did. He was lonely, achingly, awfully lonely, and it was only now that he began to realize the depths of it.

These sorts of things had been on his mind for a while. It was especially hard tonight, though, at Edelgard’s engagement ball. 

Hubert mostly stuck to the corners. He knew well enough that his face was scary to most, his presence in general was not one that people found comforting. But he was still expected to attend. Most of, if not all of the Black Eagle strike force would be attending. He knew Petra and Bernadetta were probably busy; the two had left to see what all Brigid had to offer and were not set to return for a few weeks. Hubert did miss the both of them. 

Bernadetta choosing to explore was unexpected, but it was simply a sign of her growth. He often found himself thinking of what she might be doing or thinking—if she and Petra were having fun, learning anything new. He hoped she was. He unconsciously reached for the embroidered flower she’d given him. He still wore it pinned to his chest, even though she wasn’t around to see it and be comforted by it.

“Are you going to be hugging the wall all night, Hubie?” 

Hubert turned to find Dorothea leaning against the wall next to him, grinning.

“Ah, Dorothea. Yes, I find the wall to be great company.” Hubert took his glass of punch and sipped, appraising Dorothea in his own way. 

“But not better than me, of course.” She met Hubert’s eyes with her own easy grin.

“Of course,” he conceded. “Where’s your paramour?”

“Ferdie? He’s talking education plans with our Emperor.” She giggles, sighing softly. “He’s so cute, isn’t he?”

“He is something,” Hubert said, so deep in thought that he hardly paid attention to what Dorothea was saying.

“You’re being all too agreeable. Are you just doing that to make me go away?” Dorothea crossed her arms. “Rude.”

“My apologies, Dorothea,” Hubert said, letting go of the pin to clasp his hands together behind his back. “I did not mean to come off as rude.”

“You’re fine, Hubie, I’m messing with you.” She examined him, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. There is much to consider, with Lady Edelgard’s impending marriage.” His eyes slid away from her, and to the floor.

“Like how jealous you are of our Professor?” Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “She won in the end, Hubert, you have to accept it. Unless you’re planning on objecting at the wedding or something? I have to say, I love the drama of it all, but Edie is—” 

“Wholly devoted, I know. I wouldn’t object even if my life were on the line, Dorothea. You ought to know by now I am no fool.” Hubert shook his head. “And I’m not a teenager with a puppy dog crush on her any longer. I’m happy for her, she has Byleth, and they will be very happy together.”

“But...?” Dorothea said, waiting for him to continue.

Hubert sighed. “But I have been thinking.”

“Thinking? Dangerous.” Dorothea clicked her tongue.

“Highly.”

“About what, Hubie?”

“About love, I suppose,” Hubert said, with a pause. “Do you remember what you told me, all those years ago? About wanting to be loved?”

“Oh! It really was a long time ago, huh…” Dorothea pursed her lips. “I think I said what I wanted in a partner was someone who made me happy, and who wanted to love me.”

“Yes. At the time I didn’t understand, but I...” He trailed off. It was hard to open up, even still, but Dorothea had always been a trustworthy ally. “I suppose I find myself wanting to grasp the concept.”

Dorothea looked surprised. “You do? Is there someone you’re thinking of in particular?”

Hubert fiddled with his hands. “Not really, no.”

He said this, but why in his mind did he picture—

“Bernie!” Dorothea called out, suddenly. From across the room, he noticed that the ballroom suddenly had two more guests. It was none other than Petra and Bernadetta, who were immediately swarmed by their friends. Hubert was previously certain that they wouldn’t be there, but seeing them again was more than a pleasant surprise. 

Edelgard and Byleth hugged the both of them, and Bernadetta looked overwhelmed with the big greeting, as expected. Petra looked as though she was regaling the other guests with stories of Brigid, which allowed Bernadetta to slip away. Good, Hubert thought, let her have a break. He could only imagine how the stress of travel had affected her. 

“Oh. Hubert, don’t think I’ve forgotten this, okay? I’m going to talk to Petra.” Dorothea put one hand on his shoulder, patting him with a soft smile.

“Have fun,” Hubert said, with a nod. “Please, don’t give it a second thought.”

“I’m going to! And I’m asking Ferdie for advice!”

“If he says anything of real use, just barge into my room at any hour and tell me right away.” He chuckled to himself, waving as Dorothea crossed the room.

At that moment, Hubert thought to himself that the room was rather warm, and that he’d prefer to meander outside. He’d greet Petra later, when she wasn’t surrounded by the others. He was rather interested in the political situation in Brigid, and how they were handling the shift in Fódlan, but it was a matter for another time.

He made his way across the room, and slipped through the door and into the cool night air outside the ballroom. It was dark out, thankfully. Hubert found that he preferred it that way. It was easier to slide into the shadows where he belonged.

He found a bench, and sat on it, staring up at the moon. Once again he reached to his chest to fiddle with the embroidered flower there, thinking of what it was he really wanted. Was happiness really so far off a wish? Could he be allowed to find it for himself?

His mind drifted, and when he felt a presence next to him, he nearly lept out of his seat.

“Eeep!” Cried the person next to him. He recognized her immediately, of course—there was no other member of Lady Edelgard’s inner circle with that shock of purple hair, and he smoothed his coat.

“Bernadetta, where in the world did you come from?” He looked at Bernadetta. Distantly, he realized it was the first time he’d seen her in months. She seemed to sit up straighter, to carry herself with a certain poise. It seemed all of her travel had done her well. Still, she looked at him incredulously, the two deeply surprised by each other.

“Me! You’re the one dressed in all black sitting on a bench in the dark! At least wear something reflective!”

Hubert shook his head, but had to concede the point. “I suppose I am. My apologies, Bernadetta.”

Bernadetta shook her head in turn, patting the seat beside her. “No, I’m sorry. Petra’s taught me how to sneak around and I guess I do it unconsciously now.” She snorted. “Although, it is kind of funny, isn’t it?”

“What,” Hubert asked, declining to sit. He didn’t want to scare Bernadetta any more than he may have already.

“You being scared by me rather than it being the other way around.” Her voice took on a sly, conspiratorial tone.

“I was simply surprised,” said Hubert.

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen you jump out of your seat like that.” Bernadetta tilted her head to the side and smiled at him.

Even still, after all these years of being friends with Bernadetta, with all these years to grow used to how her smile felt directed at him, Hubert was taken off guard. Absence had him grow complacent. The man who worked in the shadows was now unused to how Bernadetta’s light made him feel, and it gave him pause. It took him a moment too long to speak, but he cleared his throat, and said, “I’m not one for leaping, no.” 

Bernadetta chuckled at that. “Yeah, it’s not exactly your style, huh.”

“I suppose not.” He shook his head, finally feeling as though he was back on solid ground. “How was Brigid?”

“Scary. Wonderful? So, so amazing. There’s all kinds of plants I’ve never seen! I’ve been documenting them, and I’ve even brought back some seeds to plant when I get back home.” Bernadetta’s speech was animated as ever, and she motioned with her hands when she spoke. Hubert could always tell when she was excited, because her eyes sparkled, no matter how dark it was outside. He felt grateful for the moonlight, and the way it reflected off of Bernadetta, making it easier to see her happiness.

“You’re returning to Varley territory?” He said. This did not exactly come as a surprise. Bernadetta’s father had passed—not by Hubert’s hand, although he had offered in his own way to do it for Bernadetta, should she wish it. Bernadetta’s presence was expected, although Hubert and Edelgard had specifically made arrangements so that she need not worry herself with it immediately. 

Still, it was difficult to know what to say. Hubert gathered his gloved hands in front of himself, considering, and Bernadetta knit her eyebrows together in worry, but still tried to smile for him.

“It’s okay. Nobody knows what to say.” She must have thought it a kindness to release him from the work of coming up with a response. Condolences felt wrong—if anything the death of Count Varley should be celebrated. But he remained Bernadetta’s father, and he knew her feelings on the matter were complicated.

Hubert let out a held breath. “If you wish to talk about it, Bernadetta, I would be happy to listen.”

Bernadetta fiddled with the hem of her tunic. “...Do you wanna sit, Hubert? You’re making me nervous by standing like that.”

“Of course,” Hubert said, and he sat next to her.

“It’s... weird.” Bernadetta sighed. “I don’t really know how to manage a territory… But part of me is… excited? Nervous?”

Hubert nodded. He knew the feeling well. When his father had died (by his own hand no less) he could not help but be filled with the excitement of possibility—what he might do with his house, now that his traitor of a father wasn’t ruining the place. How he might restore the Vestra name, by serving the Emperor with all he had. He hadn’t had time to return to his childhood manor since the end of the war, but Edelgard kept reminding him to take time to do it. Perhaps there would be time later, after the end of the secret war of House Vestra, after the last of the Slitherers had been eliminated.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Hubert said. It was the truth, although it didn’t touch on the whole of it.

Bernadetta sighed. “Yeah. I thought about building a big greenhouse… part of me wants to tear the whole stupid manor down. I’m scared to even go inside.” She tugged at the hem of her tunic, a nervous habit she’d had the whole time Hubert had known her. Bernadetta, who was among the bravest people he knew, afraid to enter the home where she’d grown up. It spoke volumes to the ways in which she had suffered as a girl, and it filled him with a cold fury. If he could turn back the clock and make Count Varley suffer more, he would. He deserved to feel the same fear his daughter felt, if not multiplied tenfold.

But that was in the past, and Hubert could not change that. Bernadetta needed his support now, more than ever. He thought, for a moment, and then his mouth moved before he could stop it. 

“I could come with you, if you wanted.” He met her eyes.

Bernadetta looked almost overwhelmed. “R-really? You’d do that for me?”

“Nothing is scarier than me, after all.” He chuckled, the sort of laugh he might do after coming up with some particularly wicked plot. It seemed this laugh no longer affected Bernadetta like it used to, and she simply laughed with him.

“That’s not true, Hubert. You aren’t scary. At least not anymore.” She reached out, and poked the flower embroidery on his chest. 

Hubert felt nearly embarrassed—he hadn’t known Bernadetta would be there tonight, and yet he wore it anyway, because it brought him a sense of comfort. Bernadetta would know that. Part of him didn’t want her to ask, but another part of him wished she would. He was unsure of how he might explain himself, even, he was unsure of where the desire to tell Bernadetta these sorts of things came from.

“I’ve lost my spark, have I?” He asked.

“No, it’s still there. I just know you too well for you to scare me anymore.” Bernadetta’s eyes filled with something Hubert could not name. It seemed to be a sort of fondness, perhaps, for their friendship.

Hubert reached up and adjusted his pin. “A far cry from when you used to stalk the halls of Garreg Mach with your needle in hand.”

“I was like, seventeen! We’re adults now.” Bernadetta pouted, but her eyes drifted down towards his hand. “Oh—Hubert, your glove.”

“Hmm?” Hubert looked at his right hand.

“There’s a hole,” Bernadetta said. 

Sure enough, there was. He hadn’t noticed, with everything going on. Leave it to Bernadetta to notice the small details. 

“Well. I suppose I’ll just have to buy new ones,” he said, self-conscious.

“Don’t do that,” Bernadetta said. “Here, I’ve got my sewing kit, just let me fix it.”

“Oh,” Hubert said. Bernadetta reached out, her own hand hovering over Hubert’s.

“May I?” She asked.

Hubert nodded, suddenly stunned into silence. She took his hand, and began to remove the offending glove. Something about the act was so intimate. Hubert was the only one to remove his gloves, and here was Bernadetta, doing it as if it was nothing. She must have truly gained some confidence, to be able to do something like this so easily. He gulped, pulling his hand away as soon as it was free from the glove. If the tips of his fingers, stained black by dark magic, bothered Bernadetta, she did not remark on them, which he was grateful for.

Bernadetta pulled a sewing kit from out of her pocket, and quickly threaded a needle for herself. She set to work on patching the hole. Hubert felt no need to fill the silence—he didn’t want to break this moment, this bubble that had been created between the two of them. 

It took her only a moment, but quickly it was as though the glove had never been torn in the first place. Bernadetta was truly gifted, in a way that few were. She was a skilled fighter, a skilled craftsman, a master of plants and greenery, and on top of that, she had the biggest heart of anyone Hubert knew. Hubert had his own talents, but they tended toward the nefarious. He wondered if he’d ever be able to learn something like sewing himself, but doubted he’d have the skill for it.

“There,” Bernadetta said, once it was done. “Now you don’t have to waste any money on new gloves. And, if you do want a new pair, I mean… I could make you some! If you wanted.” Bernadetta looked embarrassed.

She held out the glove for Hubert to take. Hubert reached out to gather it, his fingertips brushing against Bernadetta’s hand for only a moment. It was long enough for him to gather that her hands were soft, and well taken care of.

“Your hands are freezing!” Bernadetta exclaimed. “No wonder you wear gloves all the time.”

Hubert laughed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Here,” Bernadetta said. She took Hubert’s bare hand between her own. “My hands are always really warm.”

Hubert felt himself stuttering, as though his body did not know how to react. Nobody touched him like this; not in any form. He did not hold hands with anyone, and so the foreign sensation of it was disarming, but pleasant. Bernadetta was warm, as she said, and though he could feel the callouses on her hands from handling her bow, they were still quite soft. Very pleasant, indeed. He could only imagine the look on his face; so he did not meet her eyes, out of fear he might look like a fool.

In his head, a realization crystallized. This was what it was he wanted. Quiet moments like this—intimate ones, with someone he trusted holding his hand. Easy happiness. In his heart grew a quiet yearning.

He thought of what it might be like if Bernadetta hugged him, something he hadn’t experienced in many, many years. He was shocked by how much he wanted it; how he craved her touch. He wondered if Bernadetta felt the same. Their upbringings were similar, neither had siblings nor affectionate parents, and so therefore were bereft of affection from casual touch. Were they both this starved for contact? He wanted to know, and wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. It felt as though speaking would shatter the moment like glass, and he would rather perish than be responsible for that.

He took his other hand, the one still in the glove, and put it on top of Bernadetta’s hand. They were both clutching each other like this, neither of them saying anything, nor meeting each other’s eyes. 

It felt like an eternity that they were like this, until they heard the door creak open. Bernadetta hopped back, letting go of Hubert. Hubert wanted nothing more than to reach out again, to take the other glove off and to grab Bernadetta’s hand and to never let go. He turned to look towards the door, to see who it was that had interrupted, and he hoped that his glare would be enough to make them slink back inside.

Who else but Caspar, although it seemed he hadn’t noticed the two of them. He was leaning heavily on Linhardt, who gave them a cursory glance and a sleepy wave. Good, Hubert thought, they’re probably on their way home. Nothing would get in the way of Linhardt and their sleep, not even pleasantries with their dear friends, and so Hubert could return to the moment with Bernadetta, but when he turned back to her, she was staring off to the side, as pink as can be.

Of course the moment was broken. Hubert could not return this one if he tried—and he knew trying would only make things more awkward, so he returned his hands to his lap, slipping his other glove on.

“Well,” he started, standing up. “I’m returning to the party. Are you going to be staying outside?”

“Probably,” Bernadetta said, with a laugh. “You know me and crowds.”

“Right,” Hubert said. He unclipped his outer cloak, and handed it off to Bernadetta. “Wear this, then.”

“Your cloak?” Bernadetta looked confused.

“It is chilly,” Hubert said, looking at the ground. “I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

“Oh,” Bernadetta said. She wound the cloak around herself. “Thanks, Hubert.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, and went back inside, aching with something he could not quite put words to yet.

“Wait,” Bernadetta called after him, rising from the bench. “I wanted to… I-If you really wanted to go to the Varley manor with me, we could… It’d be nice to have a friend on my side, and Petra’s gotta get back to Brigid, so…”

Hubert turned back to face her, hands in his pockets. “...If you’ll have me, Bernadetta, I would accompany you.” If it would ease Bernadetta’s heart, he would do any number of things.

She seemed satisfied with this. “Good! I’ll be staying in the castle while I order a carriage and stuff so. I’ll just tell them there’s two guests!”

Hubert smiled softly. “Yes. I’ll be awaiting the details, Bernadetta.”

He strode into the party, unsure of how to process what he had just agreed to, clutching his hands together.


	2. complex flavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The carriage ride. Hubert reminisces. Bernadetta opens up.

“I realize with your nuptials so imminent, it might be bad timing—”

“Please, Hubert, you don’t have to worry about that.” Edelgard shook her head, amused. “Like I said, you have my full and complete permission to worry about our dear friend. Bernadetta has good taste in helpers, if she requested your presence!”

Byleth nodded in agreement, fingers idly winding their way through Edelgard’s hair. They were always like that.

“The compliment is appreciated, my lady,” Hubert said, bowing. “I’ll let you know when we’re set to leave.”

To be fair, Hubert would not even consider leaving if not for the fact that Byleth was always by Edelgard’s side. He knew that she was safe with her, at least, and could spend a short while away. It allowed him to leave for espionage purposes; at least, and so he was grateful for Byleth’s presence.

Edelgard smiled up at Byleth, but then returned to look at Hubert. “Well, just make sure you’re back in three weeks time. The Black Eagle Strike Force reunion dinner is soon, remember?”

“I do,” Hubert said. “Bernadetta promised me she would share the details as soon as she could, but she’s very careful. I’m sure she has been planning around your dinner, my lady.”

Edelgard had been talking about this reunion dinner for months. Edelgard was highly sentimental, after all, and with the engagement she couldn’t resist having a dinner with just her nearest and dearest. Hubert would not miss it for the world. Despite his cold exterior, he held great fondness for his old classmates. Even Mercedes and Jeritza were set to attend, all of them finally able to set some time together to celebrate the end of the war and Edelgard’s impending wedding. 

“Well, I _know,_ I’m just... It’s important to me.” Edelgard pouted.

“They wouldn’t miss it,” Byleth said, hand at the small of Edelgard’s back. She smiled slowly and softly at her, and Hubert, sensing the intimacy of the moment, looked to the floor. 

Such brazen displays of affection always made him feel as though he was intruding. He wasn’t used to seeing them in any sense; even as a child his parents were not like that with each other. If anything they kept at least five feet between them at all times. Affection like that made him feel… awkward, embarrassed. Like he didn’t belong near it. 

Edelgard hummed in agreement, and, with a visible blush on her face, nodded. “Yes, well! Thank you for updating me, Hubert. Stay safe on your trip.”

“Of course, Lady Edelgard.” Hubert nodded, and left the room.

As he wandered the hallways of the imperial castle, he was lost in thought, which is why he did not notice Bernadetta rounding the corner right in front of him. The two crashed into each other, but thankfully neither fell—Hubert reached out to grab Bernadetta’s arm, holding her steady.

“Bernadetta!” Hubert exclaimed. “My sincerest apologies, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Me either,” Bernadetta said, face bright red. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, please, it’s alright,” Hubert said. He released her arm, now sure that she could stand on her own two feet.

Bernadetta shook her head. “It’s—well, I was looking for you, actually, I have, uhm…” Bernadetta opened her satchel, still very embarrassed. “Your, your cloak! And I figured out the carriage!”

“Oh.” Hubert looked down at her, and reached out to take the cloak. He was partly surprised that she was returning it so soon—had it been her that gave him the cloak, he’d end up keeping it far longer than he should have. He held it tightly. “When are we leaving, then?”

“I know it’s _really_ fast, but does tomorrow work for you? I figure the sooner we get everything over with, the better. You can get back to empire stuff, and we’ll definitely catch Edel’s big dinner thingy.” Bernadetta smiled sheepishly.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’ll have to pack, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thanks, Hubert. You’re really doing me a huge favor… I’ll have to figure out how to repay you.”

“No repayment necessary,” Hubert said, waving his hand. “You needed help. I’m sure any other member of the Black Eagle Strike Force would have also said yes, should you have asked.”

“I don’t know if that’s true… I know you don’t think of yourself like this, but you’re actually really nice, Hubert. You go out of your way to help the people you care about.”

Hubert was unsure of what to say to this, running his thumb over the fabric of his cloak. “Well, I don’t know that’s necessarily…” He pursed his lips. 

“It’s just what I think,” Bernadetta said, with a shrug. “Oh, so the carriage leaves out of the castle tomorrow at eleven thirty, so I’ll meet you at the front gates ten minutes before, okay?”

Hubert nodded. “Yes, that sounds good.” 

They stood like that for a moment, in the silence. Hubert looked to the floor, and then to Bernadetta, and shifted his weight. “Well, I suppose I should start on packing.”

“Yes,” Bernadetta said, presumably realizing that they’d just stood there silently for an overly long amount of time. “I would go do the same, but I barely unpacked from my trip with Petra.”

Hubert chuckled. “At least it’s convenient for you now.”

“Yeah. I _hate_ packing.” Bernadetta’s voice was filled with conviction.

“Understandable, although I have no qualms with it myself,” Hubert said, considering it.

“Yeah, but you like weird stuff,” Bernadetta said.

“Do I now?”

Bernadetta laughed, shaking her head. “You’re one of the few people I know who genuinely likes things that taste bitter.”

“Surely it should come as no surprise that I enjoy complex flavors?” He raised his eyebrow.

Bernadetta covered her mouth, giggling at him. “If it’s not nearly as complicated as you, it doesn’t grace your palette?”

“No, it most certainly does not.” He felt filled with good humor. It was rare that he was so pleased like this. Some days it felt as though smiling was impossible, but with Bernadetta around, it came so easily, even if he didn’t want it to. 

“I’ll leave you to packing, then,” Bernadetta said, finally. It seemed if one of them didn’t break this lingering, they’d end up speaking forever. Hubert held his cloak to his chest and nodded.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and retired to his room, full of complicated emotions he could not name.

* * *

The next day arrived swiftly, and with it, a new batch of nerves settled into Hubert’s stomach. He had plenty of time to think overnight, though he had tried to stop thinking so hard. If there was part of him that longed for more of holding Bernadetta’s hand, he would silence it as swiftly as he’d silence his enemies, and so he did not linger on those particular feelings. Instead, he thought of the trip to Varley territory. 

He had not asked Bernadetta where her mother was; although he had thought many times about it. He could not recall the last time she’d spoken about her. When she discussed her childhood, it was frequently through tears, and mostly about her father. Hubert had figured that Lady Varley had either left or died; and had not gathered information about the matter. It felt wrong to pry in that manner. If Bernadetta wished to tell him, she would, and it had not been necessary to know. As he headed to the front gates of the imperial castle, he wondered if Bernadetta would tell him. It felt like the sort of thing they could talk about on the ride over. It would be a trip of about a day’s time, and Hubert was not quite sure what all they might discuss. Whenever the two were alone together, it seemed they were never bereft of things to chat about. 

Bernadetta, ever timely, appeared at the gates ten minutes before the carriage was set to arrive, as they’d agreed upon. Hubert stepped out into the sunlight alongside her, the two having met while leaving their chambers. Bernadetta, for all her nervousness, seemed to be holding together quite well as they went to approach their ride.

They loaded up their things, and then climbed into the back of the carriage. Bernadetta sat beside Hubert, though there were two rows of seats. He supposed she felt safer by his side. They were shoulder to shoulder, as the space within the carriage was tight, but Hubert did not exactly mind the contact, especially since their last touch had lingered long in his mind. It would be for the best if he pushed it out of his mind now, and so he decided to take the initiative in chatting.

“So,” he said, once they had set off on their journey. “You were telling me about the native plants in Brigid last night?”

Bernadetta nodded, eagerly. “I was! Do you really want to hear about them…? I brought my notebook, so I can show you, um…” She pulled her notebook out of her bag and leafed through it. 

Hubert caught glimpses of the pages as she turned through them. She was not too careful with the way she flipped each of the pages, and so Hubert could see, through the various doodles and notes, there were drawings. Not only of the flora and fauna of Brigid, but portraits, as well. He spotted one of Petra, and then another of Edelgard—beautiful and accurate. Then, most curiously, he saw a sketch of himself. It was only the briefest glimpse, but there was no mistaking it, either. He regarded Bernadetta curiously, but she did not seem to notice that he had noticed.

Finally, Bernadetta found the page she was seeking. “Here!” She moved the notebook so that it was lying across of both of their laps, and she pointed to the page. “So, okay, you know how I love carnivorous plants?”

“I am aware, yes,” Hubert said.

Bernadetta laughed, looking only a little embarrassed. “Yeah… I’ll never forget that day you came into the greenhouse so late at night, and I was busy making sure the sundew plant I’d snuck in had gotten enough nutrients. I think I nearly fainted.”

Hubert chuckled. He, too, remembered that night fondly, at least in retrospect. Teasing Bernadetta in school had been something of an indulgence for him, and he found himself sneaking up on her to see what she’d been up to. It had felt bad, scaring her so badly, but it was what came after that made him so happy.

“I remember it well,” Hubert said. “What was it you said, again? ‘Oh, Hubert, please don’t tell anyone, if Seteth finds out I’ll never be allowed in the greenhouse again?’ Quite the moving plea.”

Bernadetta hit Hubert on the shoulder, in a playful way. “Well, duh. I was worried I was going to be expelled, really.”

“And there I was, admiring your rule-breaking spirit.” He smiled, softly. “But of course, I did not understand what exactly the problem was with your little plant. You then eagerly launched into a lecture about the various types of carnivorous plants, and how each manages to catch their prey.”

“That I did!” Bernadetta giggled. “Do you still remember the types?”

He nodded. “I certainly doubt I could ever forget them.” He had listened to her speak with such gusto, and it was the first time he felt as though he might be able to understand her. Life back then was full of mistrust; from both himself and Lady Edelgard. They were convinced that the rest of the Black Eagles would abandon them, once the truth of the Flame Emperor was revealed. Bernadetta breaking the rules felt like a sign, that the lot of them could become something like friends and allies. He could not have predicted how close they all would eventually become.

“Well!” Bernadetta said, snapping him out of his reminiscing. She traced over the details of the plant on the page. “Um, this one is a pitcher plant. But what you can’t see from my sketch is the size of this thing! It’s massive, Hubert, a human could _definitely_ fall in. I think it probably gets most of its nutrients from animals that pass by. It was right in a nice spot, too, in the middle of this really deep forest…”

Hubert nodded, considering. “How do you suppose it got so large in the first place?”

“That’s a really good question!” Bernadetta, then, launched into an explanation of what could have possibly created a pitcher plant this large. Hubert was fascinated. Bernadetta was whip smart, and knew a great deal about this particular subject. 

“Anyways,” she said, when she had reached the end of her lecture, “that’s a few possible explanations! Um, sorry for talking for so long…”

“Please, don’t apologize,” Hubert said. “I’m always glad to hear your thoughts.”

“Ahh… thanks, Hubert.” Bernadetta giggled, tapping the page. She flipped forward a few more, to a drawing of a flower. “This one reminded me of you, actually… it contains a potent toxin!”

Hubert chuckled, amused. “I’m familiar, actually.”

“You are? Aww. And here I was, hoping I’d actually get to surprise you…” Bernadetta shook her head.

“When it comes to the subject of poisons, I sincerely doubt I could be surprised at this point.” 

Bernadetta sighed in a melodramatic way. “I should expect no less!”

“You’d be underestimating me if you did,” Hubert said, smirking.

“True.” Bernadetta continued flipping through her notebook, and then opened to a new page. She grabbed her pen, and began drawing. 

The two lapsed into an easy silence. Hubert continued to think about the drawing. He wished terribly to ask—when had she drawn it? He wanted to see the details of it, and to ask why she’d chosen him as a subject. Had she thought of him a lot, while they were away from each other? They’d exchanged a few letters in their time apart, and he had most certainly thought of her, between waging the private war of House Vestra and stalwartly assisting Lady Edelgard. He often wondered what she was doing, who she was speaking to, how she was faring. He wore her embroidered flower every day, and every time he saw it or put it on, he thought of her.

“Oh,” Bernadetta said, and Hubert turned to her then. “I forgot…! I wanted to thank you, Hubert.”

“What for?” He asked, and regarded her curiously.

“My pin! You’re still wearing it…” She smiled softly. 

“It does help you to be less afraid of me, after all. It would be rude to not wear it around you.”

“Well… well! I mean… You know, I’m not… you don’t scare me anymore, Hubert. You don’t have to wear it if it’s just that.” She looked at him, searching his face.

Hubert’s lips pressed to a flat line. It was not _just_ that—he genuinely loved the pin, how it made him feel close to Bernadetta though she might be far away. In all of Bernadetta’s handcrafted items, there was care put into every stitch. Even in his gloves, he could feel it. Part of it scared him. He still, even after all these years, felt as though he did not deserve that sort of care or affection, and yet when it came from Bernadetta… To deny her the opportunity to care would be worse than simply accepting said affection. Expressing that, however, felt like its own battle. He wanted to reassure her that he loved his flower pin, the thought she put into it, and so his mind turned on how to say it.

“It is not only that, Bernadetta,” he said, finally. “I enjoy wearing it. It reminds me of you.”

This gave Bernadetta pause in turn. Her pen stopped scratching away at her notebook. “...Yeah?” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Did I ever tell you why I picked that flower in particular?” She asked. Her eyes still did not meet his, instead she looked to the floor of the carriage.

“Though I am aware it’s a lily of the valley, I have never been aware of its significance, no.” He tilted his head to the side.

“There’s a couple of reasons… Well, first of all, the lily of the valley is poisonous in certain quantities, and I felt like I had to go with one that was a little deadly, just like you. Um… and… well, if you’re interested in flower meanings at all, it means humility, hard work, kindness, and good fortune.”

Hubert’s eyes widened just the slightest bit. “Does all of that remind me of you?”

“Yeah. I don’t know anybody who works harder than you, Hubert. You’re modest, and so nice.” Bernadetta, in the dappled sunlight coming through the curtains of the carriage, looked almost pink around the edges. Hubert could feel himself turning the same shade.

Bernadetta saw qualities in him that he could hardly see himself. To describe him as kind, or associate him with good fortune—there was hardly anyone in Fódlan who would do as such, and yet Bernadetta did, with hardly any hesitation. Hubert gathered his hands in his lap. He did not know how to deal with this. He wished, distantly, that he’d asked Edelgard for advice before he left, or Dorothea, or anyone, really. But what would he have asked, if he’d thought to do it? He knew somewhere inside of himself he was fond of Bernadetta, but he was not used to how her affection felt turned to him this closely. That quiet yearning that he tried to ignore grew louder. Hubert touched the pin, feeling the edges of it through his gloves, and knew that he felt warm all over.

“Thank you,” he settled on. “Not many would refer to me in that manner.”

“I would,” she said, quite plainly.

It felt as though they were on the precipice of something, of some sort of understanding, but Hubert shied away from it. It was easier to turn the attention outwards.

“Many would speak of you like that, though,” he said. “You were terribly missed while you were gone. Lady Edelgard asked about you near daily. Mercedes rather missed her baking buddy, as she calls you.”

“Oh!” Bernadetta said. She looked a little sheepish, and tapped her pen against her notebook. “I missed them too! It was really hard being away from everyone for so long…”

“I’m sure. The Black Eagles Strike Force is nothing without you or Petra.” He gave her a small smile, glad to be away from his earlier discomfort.

She laughed. “Well, I’m glad to be back.”

“Have you spared a thought to what you might do now?” Hubert asked. “Will you be returning to Brigid once more?”

“I’ve sort of thought about it,” Bernadetta said. “I miss being in Fódlan when I’m away, but there’s a lot of stuff to still be learned about Brigid. Plus, I have to keep in mind my family’s territory now. It’ll be a lot harder to run things if I’m not here, and I don’t really know who I would leave it to… I don’t want to create a bunch of work for somebody if I don’t have to.” She frowned. 

Hubert pursed his lips. “I am… unsure of how to ask this,” he said.

Bernadetta inclined her head. “You won’t offend me, Hubert, we’re friends! What is it?”

“Your mother… she can’t help?”

Bernadetta frowned. “I um… haven’t heard from her. I… I’m sure she’s heard, but. I don’t even know how to contact her. She hasn’t tried contacting me, either. So… But, it’s not a big deal!”

Hubert’s brows furrowed. “Bernadetta, if you need—”

“It’s really okay,” she said, quickly. “I um… I’m set on figuring it out myself. I don’t need her help.”

“Do you want my help?” Hubert asked. He was certain his face looked all too serious. He reached out, to put one hand on hers. 

Bernadetta looked at him, then, wrestling with something inside of herself. She turned her hand over, taking his.

“I… I don’t want…” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience. I know you’re probably busy. I really have it, Hubert, you don’t have to worry about Bernie bear!”

Hubert squeezed her hand. “Your needs are never an inconvenience, I promise you.”

When Bernadetta smiled at him, then, she looked achingly sad. There existed in her the weight of so much hurt, hurt that Hubert wanted to soothe. He was not built for soothing in that manner, and so all he could do was sit there and hold her hand, hoping that his wanting somehow reached her.

“Thank you,” she said. He could see the beginning of tears in her eyes, and so, in a move based entirely on instinct, he reached up to her face, to wipe them away. She sniffled, looking embarrassed. “S-sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he said, and released her from any hold. Again, a warmth seized his body, and he held his hands together in his lap.

“Right. Right! Um.” She shook her head, as if to break herself out of her funk, and then turned to their packed bag of food. “Are you hungry? I made sure to pack two-fish saute.”

“I could eat,” he said, and the two set to eating, whittling away the time as they rode to Varley Manor. Though he was filled with a strange mix of emotions, being with Bernadetta was easy, and so even the silence felt comfortable. He had brought his own book to read, a particularly interesting one on Almyran history, and Bernadetta drew and hummed tunes to herself, and then began reading as well.

He noted, with some amusement, that while she was reading, she began to nod off, head dipping as the time went on. It only took a little while before she was fast asleep. She leaned against Hubert, her sleeping body having decided that he was the most comfortable surface available.

There was a quiet comfort in the moment. Hubert found again that it felt to be an encapsulation of what he wanted. He had once imagined being able to do things like this with Edelgard, as she had been the object of his affections, but he had long since moved on. The reality of having Bernadetta there with him felt better than his idle imaginations as a teenager. It felt like such a far cry from the girl that had fainted on him so long ago—instead; she was here, choosing to sleep on him because she felt comfortable being near him.

The comfort of it, the warmth and the gentleness of having her near him, breathing rhythmically as the carriage rolled on lulled Hubert into his own sleep.

Hubert rarely dreamed, but he dreamt now. 

Bernadetta’s hand in his own bare hands, the two sat in a field full of lilies of the valley. She turned to him, dressed all in ivory, with an eager smile. The sunlight felt good against his skin, and Bernadetta clasped both of his hands in hers. She kissed him on the cheek, then, and pulled away to meet his eyes. She said something that Hubert couldn’t hear. He asked her to clarify, and she gave him a sly sort of smile. 

“You need to wake up, silly,” she said, and leaned in, until he could feel the whisper of her breath against his lips and—

Hubert was started to waking, blinking sleep out of his eyes as he looked at his traveling companion.

“Bernadetta,” he said, first realizing that he was resting against her shoulder, an inverse of how they were earlier, and secondly that he had linked his arms with hers while he had slept. Bernadetta must have been awake longer than he had. He released her, and looked up to meet her eyes, his own dream lingering in the back of his mind.

Again, her face was hard to read. Hubert studied her, sure that he would understand the more he looked, but it only grew more puzzling. It was a sort of fondness, he supposed, but one that he found difficult to parse. He blamed it on the sleep in his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair, hoping that might wake him up more.

“Hi, Hubert. We’re here.” She smiled softly, and patted his back. “Ready to head in?”

He nodded, embarrassed that he had spent so much of the ride fast asleep, and embarrassed of his dreams. Unconscious minds often summoned irrelevant things, and this must have been nothing different.

He was not ready to admit otherwise.

The two stood outside Varley Manor, and the carriage they’d ordered rolled away into the distance. A few maids came out to retrieve their bags, and Bernadetta greeted them kindly, but Hubert could tell there was an anxiety lurking beneath the surface.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

“...I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready. But it has to be done.” She sighed.

“We can sleep outside, should you prefer,” he said. 

“Hubert,” she whined, hitting him in the arm. She at least laughed, which was his goal, and he gave her an amused half smile.

“I’m being serious! If you find indoors to be detestable, we’ll find a tent and camp out. It’ll be like old times.”

“Yeah,” Bernadetta said, with a giggle. “Except this time I won’t have to deal with Caspar’s snoring!”

That seemed to be all Bernadetta needed. She let out a huff of air, and then marched forward, pulling open the double doors with the same determination that she attacked enemies. Hubert could only feel proud. Bernadetta turned, then, and reached out her hand. She looked at him, pleadingly, eyes a silent question.

Hubert took her hand, and the two entered Varley Manor in lockstep.


	3. worth protecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta and Hubert explore the manor. Bernadetta lets Hubert in her room. Hubert realizes something.

Varley Manor was terribly gloomy, Hubert noted. Though it was not as bad as the Vestra household, it was still quiet and dark. Bernadetta, upon entering, shrunk into herself. Anyone could feel the anxiety coming off of her in waves—you did not need to know her as well as Hubert did to understand that. Hubert, in his own way, was observing everything carefully. The servants of the house were happy to do their work out of the way of Bernadetta, and they all seemed to understand that this was hard for her. A few gave her strong hugs, grateful for her return, but it seemed for the most part, Hubert and Bernadetta would be allowed to move about the manor with little interruption, unless they needed something. 

Varley territory, under the late Count Varley’s rule, had languished. The territory had much to offer the empire, but it seemed that mismanagement had always led to misfortune, which is why Hubert supposed Count Varley had put all of his bets on Bernadetta marrying someone and producing an heir. This, of course, had proved to be another misstep. That Varley thought he could use his daughter like a pawn made Hubert sick, and the lengths to which he went to ensure his total control made him even sicker. Being in the home where it happened made those feelings a lot more visceral. They stepped through the house, to the sitting room, and Bernadetta looked quite uncomfortable with everything.

“...Guess I should give you the tour,” Bernadetta said, wringing the hem of her tunic as though it had wronged her.

“You don’t have to,” he said, holding up a hand. “As you said—you had half a mind to bulldoze the place and just build a giant greenhouse. If that’s what you want to do with the place, then we ought to.”

Bernadetta laughed, a miserable little chuckle, and shook her head. “Yeah. I mean, I’m still thinking about that, but… It feels like kind of a waste to not go through all the stuff, right?”

Hubert nodded. “Doubtless we could find things in here that might be of use to the Empire. Anything that doesn’t suit you, we can throw away. Does that seem amenable?”

She let out a deep sigh and a nod of agreeance, and started off down the hall. Hubert followed behind, taking in the details of the home.

It was quite cold inside, not only because of the temperature, but the distinct lack of personal effects. There was a large blank space where a portrait of Count Varley had once hung, but the portrait had been taken down and was facing the wall. Hubert assumed the servants must have done that, and he felt a resolve to find out which one and thank them. Beyond that, there were no portraits of Bernadetta as a child, and none of her mother. Bernadetta pointed out each of the rooms, the kitchen and dining room, as well as the library and study. The only room she felt interested in entering was the library.

“C’mon,” she said, waving him in. She walked to a corner of the room and trailed her hand down the wall. “Ready for this?”

Hubert raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She pulled back a loose piece of wood, setting it to the ground, and from the little alcove she retrieved a few things. There were several notebooks, each of them well worn, and a few books. 

“Hah! They’re still there!” She grinned, and set the books on the table. “I always had to hide my notebooks and writing and stuff. Dad only came in here to make sure I was reading appropriate stuff, so I had to hide all of the stuff I actually liked down here.”

Hubert perused the titles. Some romance novel, something about a wizard and a castle that moved, and another one about humans that could morph into animal shapes. Her notebooks had notes on top that said _Bernie’s notebook! Top secret, don’t read!!!_

“Did your notes ever deter anyone?” Hubert asked, with a chuckle.

“No,” she said, with a little laugh. “But hiding them did!”

The two continued their tour. Seeing her old stuff seemed to lighten Bernadetta, at least a bit. They traveled upstairs, where all the quarters were. 

Bernadetta opened one of the doors along the hallway. “Here’s a guest room… this is where you’ll be. Frieda told me she prepared this one, so the bed’s all made and stuff. If you need any more pillows or blankets, someone will be happy to bring them.” The guest room was sparse, but it had all the amenities needed, and at least the bed looked soft. Hubert nodded, having noted the location of the room, and they continued down the hallway.

“Here’s where dad stayed,” Bernadetta said, gesturing to a room on the right, further down. She did not motion to open it, and Hubert could not blame her for it. Finally, at the very end of the hallway, there was a lone door.

“Um, here’s my room.” Bernadetta paused outside the door, putting her hand on the handle. They stood there like that in the quiet of the house for a moment, and Hubert put one hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay? You don’t have to go in if you don’t want.”

Bernadetta swallowed. “I do. Sorry, it’s just… everything’s so mixed up in my head, now. I have a lot of fond memories in here, and I’ve missed it, but I just…”

“Just what?” Hubert questioned, softly.

“What if… what if he ripped everything up and threw it all away? What if none of my old stuff is in there? What if I get in there, and all of a sudden I have a flashback to… to being tied up… and I collapse?” Her shoulders become hard set, knuckles turning white with her grip on the doorknob.

“I shall be by your side for the whole of it,” Hubert said. “If you collapse, I’ll take you back outside, so you can breathe. If everything is ripped up… I will be patently furious on your behalf. No matter what is in that room, you can count on me to be right here.”

Bernadetta took in three deep breaths, holding each in her chest, and then she turned the doorknob, opening the door to her childhood room.

To Hubert’s eyes, it was decidedly Bernadetta. It had her touches, here and there; a chest at the foot of her bed with handmade bows that she must have glued to it, a desk filled with sewing materials and half finished projects, and the windows which had lace curtains. The trim was delicately carved florals, although the room was lacking any live plants, which was understandable. The sheets were lavender, and she had stacks upon stacks of pillows—did any one person need that many pillows? Hubert turned to Bernadetta, keeping careful track of her reactions.

She pulled at the hem of her tunic, shoulders shaking. Hubert stepped forward and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Should you require it,” he said, “you can hide in my cloak. If it will help.”

Bernadetta laughed, and shook her head, letting out a deep breath. “I-I’m okay. I’ll be okay. He, um. He didn’t rip it up.”

“I see,” Hubert said. Bernadetta stayed close to him, unwilling to move further. Hubert heard the approach of steps, and he tapped Bernadetta’s shoulder twice to alert her. This was a common action between the two of them, especially on the battlefield, where non-verbal cues were essential. They turned to look at the door, only to see the approach of a maid.

“Lady Bernadetta, Lord Vestra, lunch is ready,” said Frieda, who Hubert recognized from earlier.

“Oh, Frieda,” Bernadetta said, looking entirely too anxious. “Thank you. Um, sorry, I was just… just checking in on the old room!”

Frieda nodded, with a reassuring smile. “We all saw to it that your room was kept in good condition, no matter what Count Varley insisted. Most of the time it was locked, anyway.”

Bernadetta breathed a sigh of relief, and took both of Frieda’s hands in her own. “You are all too nice to me. Have… have things been better around here, since he…?”

“Yes, ma’am. Infinitely so. We’re all grateful to have you here.” She nodded emphatically.

“Thank you,” Bernadetta said. “Um. A-and… you don’t have to call me Lady Varley. Nobody here does. Bernadetta or just Bernie is fine. W-we’ll, um, we’ll be down in a second.”

Frieda gave Bernadetta a soft smile, and nodded. “Take all the time you need.” With that, Frieda took her leave, and the two were alone once more. 

Bernadetta sighed, a deep sigh that came from her chest. She rubbed her hand against her face, and padded across the room to her bed, leaving Hubert’s grasp. Hubert stepped after her. He had promised to be by her side for the lot of it, after all.

Bernadetta got to her knees, by her bedside table, and reached under the table to pull out a little key taped to the underside of it. She put the key into the drawer, turning it until it clicked, and it slid open.

“...It’s not here,” she said.

“What is?”

“My… my letter. From my mom.” Bernadetta bit her lip, looking nearly the saddest Hubert had ever seen her. He had seen her experience loss during the war, but the hurt on her face was quite different to any he had seen before. “From after she left.”

“Oh,” Hubert said.

Bernadetta gripped the edge of the drawer. “I put it in here. It was the last time I heard from her. She put it on my bed the day I got taken to Garreg Mach… she left a day later, or so I heard from father.”

Hubert did not know what to say, so he knelt beside her, and put his arm around her. Bernadetta was shaking like a leaf, knuckles going white against the drawer.

“I’m grateful to her for sending me away. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t have met everyone… but… I can’t help but wonder why…” Bernadetta sniffled. “Why she hadn’t run earlier. Why she didn’t take me with her. Why I haven’t heard from her since. Maybe she thought by putting me in school, I’d be safe from dad, and she could leave, and then all of her loose ends would be nice and tied up. C-clearly she didn’t love me enough to follow up.”

Tears were spilling down Bernadetta’s cheeks in earnest, now, as she continued on. “In the back of my head, I’ll always wonder why. She knew what Father was doing to me… she _knew,_ and she didn’t—she didn’t protect me, probably because—because she didn’t think I was worth protecting. She saw something wrong with me, s-she _saw_ it, and she left me to it. P-probably because it spared her from being hurt in the same way. At one point, I-I was glad I was the one getting hurt, because I could protect her, b-but now I just… I just get angry, and sad, a-and hurt.” Bernadetta sucked in a shuddering breath, body curling in on itself as despair hit her fully. “I will always wonder what she saw,” she murmured. “What was the thing that made her leave me like that? And when will the rest of the Black Eagles see it?”

Bernadetta was sobbing, now, hunched against her bedside table. Hubert gently and carefully extracted her hands from the drawer. A grip like that would hurt after a while. He wrapped his arms around her, the two of them kneeling on the floor of her room, in a tight embrace. Her hands bunched in the fabric of his shirt, and she buried her head in his chest, wailing against him. 

Hubert let her cry, chin resting atop her head, as she shook with the force of her sobs. Hubert removed his gloves, remembering advice Manuela had once given him about healing. Humans loved skin to skin contact, as a species they required it, and so Hubert would do what he could for Bernadetta’s sake, though he was sure she would prefer comfort from someone else.

He ran his bare hands through her hair, to her shoulders, and then, when Bernadetta’s sobs quieted, he cupped her face in his hands. 

“Bernadetta,” he said, gently as ever. “Please. Listen to me.”

She nodded, mutely, watery grey eyes meeting his own sharp yellow ones. His thumb passes across her cheek, wiping away the remnant streaks of tears.

“There is nothing wrong with you. No fatal flaw that would turn the Black Eagles against you. Nothing about who you are as a person made what happened to you happen. Do you hear me?”

Bernadetta nodded once more, eyes fluttering. Her chest rose and fell more steadily, now, as she clung to Hubert. “B-but—but what if,” she starts.

“I promise you. You cannot say that Lady Edelgard went through what she did because of something inside of her. Extend that same courtesy to yourself, Bernadetta.” He continued on, filled with the earnest desire to let Bernadetta see what he saw inside her. “Allow me to list some truths about you—you are a stalwart ally, wickedly smart, endlessly brave. I can name, with full confidence, the number of battles you were able to turn around through personal effort. You are the only person that is able to cheer _everyone_ up, even Jeritza. Your presence is not only wanted, it is _needed._ You are necessary to us.” _To me._

Bernadetta looked at him, then, sadness melting to softness, leaning into the touch he offered. She left one of her hands at his waist, but the other rose to lay over Hubert’s left hand. 

“I am necessary,” Bernadetta repeats, in a hushed tone. 

“You are.” 

His mind screamed at him to say more. To offer up every thought he’d ever had about her loveliness, about how he would do anything she asked, about how he wanted nothing more than to protect her and make sure she was safe and happy. This desire had only crystalized itself this moment, but he knew he had felt it longer than that. He was realizing things. He now knew that what he wanted—what he _truly_ wanted—was to be by Bernadetta’s side. To have her near. To be able to hold her like this. To tangle his bare fingers with hers, to love her so deeply his heart could burst.

But now was not the time to think that. It was not the time to say it. He did not know how she might even react, knowing he felt that way—surely Bernadetta had feelings for someone else? She had always been close with Petra and Mercedes, and he had never asked. He swallowed the thoughts, keeping his cards close to his chest. He would keep his feelings to himself, spare Bernadetta the ordeal of his love. Being able to comfort her like this would have to be enough. It _would_ be enough.

His thumb stilled against her face. Bernadetta nuzzled against the palm of his hand, and the sensation now felt near overwhelming. He did not have contact like this, Bernadetta simply drew it out of him. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I… I worry about that a lot. You’re um… you’re the first person I’ve ever really talked to about that.”

Hubert furrowed his eyebrows. “I hope I have eased your worry, somewhat?”

Bernadetta nodded. “Yeah. You always do, Hubert. You um… when we’re together, it’s like…” She hums, thinking of what she wants to say. “You see me, i-is how it feels.”

He understood what she meant. Hubert and Bernadetta had not always had a mutual understanding. In the years since the war had been declared, they had come to one, and now it felt as though they knew each other exceedingly well. He brushed her face with his thumb, once more, and chanced a small smile.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said.

For a few moments more, they stayed like that. In the stillness of Bernadetta’s room, their eyes met, and Hubert could feel the thrum of his heart. He released her, though he wished not to, and helped her up off of the floor. “We ought to eat,” he said, finally, being sure not to hold her hand for too long. It simply would not do to show Bernadetta what he had just realized, the thing that he needed to bury inside himself, so that it would not cause Bernadetta any pain.

Hubert was deeply, deeply in love with Bernadetta.

Bernadetta, for her part, simply seemed glad to have his company. She nodded, rubbing at her eyes, which were ringed red. “Okay,” she said, and stepped her way out of her room. “It’ll be good to eat. I’ll see if they can make some coffee!”

Hubert nodded, following closely behind. “I know your preference is tea,” he said. “You don’t have to accommodate simply for me.”

“I think I could learn to like it,” Bernadetta said, with a small smile. “C’mon.”

* * *

The rest of the day went by quite easily. They had, indeed, drank some coffee, though Bernadetta had made sure to put plenty of cream and sugar in hers, which amused Hubert. When lunch was over, they moved to the sitting room, and began looking over the belongings there, as well as started sorting through trinkets and such. There was plenty that could be sold or donated. All of Count Varley’s clothes would be donated, including his fineries. Bernadetta couldn’t stand to spend more time near them than she had to, and so simply giving them to those who might need them seemed a simpler solution. 

Time passed by rather quickly. Hubert was grateful for how busy he’d had to be since arriving. The lack of quiet time meant no need to be alone with this thoughts, and so therefore he could avoid thinking about anything that had happened today. Unfortunately, it couldn’t last forever.

Night fell over Varley territory, and after their long journey over and hard work, Hubert and Bernadetta were exhausted. Bernadetta, seated cross-legged on the floor of the sitting room, surrounded by things, looked up at Hubert with a yawn.

“Okay,” she said, sleepiness apparent. “I think it’s time to get to bed.”

Hubert nodded, dragging a gloved hand down his face. “Agreed.” He rose from his own seated position across from her, bones creaking. He wasn’t used to sitting in that manner, but it felt odd to be in a chair while Bernadetta sprawled out on the floor, so he had joined her. 

He held out a hand for Bernadetta to take, and she did so eagerly, rising out of her position to stand. Her legs must have been asleep, because she began to stumble. Hubert, always quick on his feet, managed to catch her, holding her steady. They were close once more, bodies pressed against each other, and Hubert blinked, wondering how this had managed to happen so quickly.

"Are you alright?” He murmured, looking down at her.

“Oh,” Bernadetta said, voice catching in her throat. She looked up at him, to meet his eyes, and Hubert studied her. Her grey eyes were wide and searching, and Hubert was struck with the urge to lean in and kiss her. The urge was so overwhelming, in fact, that the effort to hold back made him forget that they were meant to be parting. “I’m, um—I’m fine,” Bernadetta finally said, after what felt like an eternity, and Hubert, at last remembering how to use his limbs, released her. 

“Good,” he said, and crossed his arms in front of himself. “Well. To bed, then.”

“Right!” Bernadetta said, with a little squeak. The two walked to their rooms, although a little asynchronously, as though they’d fallen out of step with each other. Hubert paused at his door, pushing it open, but waited in the door frame.

“...Good night, Bernadetta. Sweet dreams.” 

“Night night, Hubert,” Bernadetta said. She gathered her hands in front of herself, looking as though she was debating something, but let out a little breath instead, to continue down the hallway. “See you in the morning!”

“And you,” he said, with a wave. He entered his room, door closing with a click behind him.

He was alone, now. His shoulders sagged, and as he undressed, weariness nearly overtook him. He brushed his teeth in the en-suite bathroom, examining himself in the mirror. He looked the same as always, and yet everything he knew about himself felt so different.

He loved Bernadetta. He could think it with only the slightest urge to recoil from himself. It felt so odd—a creature such as himself, in love with Bernadetta. Theirs was a relationship that couldn’t be; of that, he was sure. He’d admitted, in private and to Dorothea, that he had the _urge_ to be close to someone in that manner, but pursuing it was a different matter entirely. He still had the private wars of house Vestra to consider; the myriad of work that had to be done to ensure that those who had hurt Edelgard would see justice. It was work he was happy to do, but it was also quite dangerous. His life was at stake. It wouldn’t be fair to enter a relationship with someone knowing full well that his own life might be forfeit sooner than expected. He would not wish to put Bernadetta through such a hardship. That was, of course, _if_ she decided to be with him, which she would not. There were plenty that could be better for her heart. That would be the end of the story, then—nothing more than a realization of feelings, and deciding to not pursue them.

Hubert ran a hand through his hair, and crawled into bed, ignoring the way that made him feel. He was not born for feeling in such a manner. Though the Black Eagles had done much to make him see the depth of caring he could have for others, there were certain truths about being born a Vestra, taught to him by his wretch of a father. His life belonged to the crown. He would have to do a great many terrible things in order to be of use. He was, by all definitions of the word, a monster—a murderer, less than, not built for silly idle things like love. Any marriage of his would be of benefit to the empire. Nothing more, nothing less.

However: his father was dead. This much was true. Another fact remained—under Edelgard’s rule, things would be different. If Hubert told her how he felt about Bernadetta, Edelgard would, with all certainty, approve wholeheartedly. Hubert laid under the covers, hand twitching, until he could not lie there any longer. He moved to the writing desk, and began composing a letter to Edelgard. Speaking with her would make things clearer.

When his first pass was done, he slid back underneath the covers, finding them to be comfortable enough. His eyes closed, and he tried very, very hard to sleep. Unfortunately, it continued to elude him.

Which was why, around two that morning, he was able to clearly hear Bernadetta knock gently at his door.

“Hubert?” Came Bernadetta’s quiet voice. “It’s Bernie…”

Hubert got up, and opened the door to find Bernadetta outside of his room. Her nightgown was stark white, and the moonlight coming in from the window in the corridor reflected off of it, making her nearly glow. She was anxiously wringing her hands in front of her, and she gave Hubert a pleading look as he regarded her.

“It’s late,” he said, concern very clear. “Are you alright?”

“I, um… Nightmares,” she said. Bernadetta worried her lip between her teeth, and he could see that she’d already bitten her nails very badly. “I… I just. I don’t think I can be… a-alone, right now?”

Hubert felt the world slow. He knew, of course, what she was requesting. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t shared quarters before. But they had never been in the same bed. It felt like he was on the precipice of something he could not predict, and the idea gave him pause.

But—he would do anything to ensure Bernadetta’s heart was eased. If she requested it, he would do it. All she would need to do was ask.

“What are you asking of me, Bernadetta?”

“C-could I… um…” Bernadetta’s eyes flit all over, finally rising to meet his own. “Could I sleep in your bed, tonight? I know it’s… I-I don’t know, but it would be really helpful to be close to someone I care about. I know I’m safe with you, so...”

He could not say no when she looked at him like that. Hubert moved aside, and motioned for her to enter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so very sorry about how late this chapter was!! as u can imagine the world has been kind of wild lately. i hope the content here was worth the wait! thank you for reading sm.


	4. frivolous things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert gets figured out. Bernadetta makes a proposal. They have a serious discussion.

Bernadetta moved into Hubert’s room as quietly and easily as a ghost, and as she passed by the desk, Hubert was glad he had tucked the draft of his letter into his bag for safe keeping. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m—I-I know this is… unprecedented, I think is the word, but thank you.”

“It is no trouble,” Hubert said, although he knew it would only serve to make his current predicament worse. He had touched Bernadetta more in the past twenty four hours than he had in months, and he had already been tempted to kiss her. What would he do, then, if Bernadetta’s face happened to hover close enough to his? What if Bernadetta wanted to be close in her sleep? He craved it. Each contact made him yearn for more. What if he could never get enough? He might be swallowed whole by his desire for Bernadetta. 

He was quite grateful for the control he had over his emotions and actions, and he made certain to look as neutrally about the whole affair as possible. She waited for him to get into bed first, and Hubert obliged, moving onto one side of the bed.

“You didn’t bring any of your spare pillows,” Hubert said, in an attempt at levity. “Will you be comfortable without them?”

Bernadetta laughed, and shook her head. “I’ve kinda learned to sleep without them over the years… plus, with two of us in the bed, there won’t be enough room, right?” 

“Mm.” Hubert nodded. Bernadetta raised the covers, and got into bed.

Hubert was lying on his back, and Bernadetta on her side, facing him. He held his hands at his side, unsure of how to relax. This was just not something he ever did, and being tossed into the situation felt rather like diving into the deepest parts of the ocean when you’re just learning to swim. He stared at the ceiling, Bernadetta only a vaguely purple blur in his peripheral. It was better that way.

“It’s kind of nostalgic, isn’t it?” Bernadetta said.

“Being in close quarters like this?”

“Yeah.” Bernadetta shifted under the covers. Hubert could feel that one of her arms was close to his, hands nearly touching. If he just stretched his pinky the slightest bit, they would be. “Like, when we were all traveling back from Derdriu?”

Hubert nodded. “I remember it well,” he said. 

That had been a particularly difficult week for everyone. Lysithea had much to say about how they’d handled the battle with Claude, and Edelgard took the criticism rather hard. They’d been bogged down on their way back to Garreg Mach, by an unexpectedly large storm, and so they’d had to stop midway through their travel. They all piled into a long abandoned inn, which Mercedes had spotted on the side of the road. Things were tense, but the entire Strike Force curled up together and slept on the floor of the inn, huddled up away from the rain. They’d walked away closer than ever, even with all the conflict.

Coincidentally, Hubert had slept next to Bernadetta that night as well. Edelgard had been on his other side, and, to remain warm, Hubert and Edelgard both used their cloaks as blankets. Bernadetta had curled up under them, and the three slept rather soundly. Edelgard didn’t even get up for one of her night walks, though Hubert supposed that was due to the exhaustion from the battle. Bernadetta had curled into his side, and Hubert had found himself quite grateful for her warmth. Not only literally, but figuratively as well. Bernadetta had not always been happy to grace him with her warmth, certainly not when they went to school together, but it seemed as of late it was all she did.

Hubert had always found himself utterly graceless and uncharming—even the regular citizens around Garreg Mach found him ghoulish. How Bernadetta could stand to share such close quarters with him, he was unsure. It seemed he might not ever understand Bernadetta, though he wanted to. 

“It sort of feels like that,” Bernadetta said. “Although it’s definitely more like, umm… i-intimate.” She laughs. Hubert wanted to turn to his side, to see how she looked in the dark—how the moonlight caressed her face. He was certain it would only turn a wicked pallor on his own complexion, making him look more dark and gloomy than ever.

Hubert hummed. Intimate indeed.

Bernadetta put her hand on top of Hubert’s, as quickly and easily as ever, as though the action itself was not incredibly difficult for her. She had an easy time with affection, but Hubert had never easily shown affection for anyone. Bernadetta managed to push past her own anxiety and fear to do so, though she had been hurt so terribly. Such bravery had Hubert in awe of her.

They laid together like that in the dark for a moment, Bernadetta’s thumb idly rubbing against the back of Hubert’s magic stained hands. He was grateful for the dark, so she could not see the physical proof of the things he had done. He was curious, however. What had her dream entailed? He continued to study the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“You had a bad dream?” He asked.

“Oh,” Bernadetta said. “Yeah, I...I um…” He could hear the way she fidgeted from the subtle shuffle of the sheets.

“If you do not wish to talk about it, you certainly don’t have to,” he said.

“No, I do… I…” She sighed. “It was just… really terrible. I was with all of you in the final battle against Rhea. There was… fire, all around, surrounding me. I kept trying to move closer to protect Edelgard… you were right behind her, and then…”

She let out an unhappy noise, wrestling with something inside herself.

“Then you… you were hit with something… I tried to shoot whatever it was, but I couldn’t see it, and the—the fire kept coming closer, a-and all I could hear… was Edelgard telling me how badly I’d failed everyone, especially her and you, and the rest of the Black Eagles... I could feel the heat on my skin, the soot in my lungs, and I…”

Hubert turned, the two of them now lying down together face to face. He carefully, delicately, as though handling something made of glass, moved to grasp Bernadetta’s hand in his own, rather than just letting her rest her hand on top of his. 

“That does sound rather scary,” he said. “It would be a lie to say I have not had similar dreams myself. However, they are simply that—a dream.”

“I know,” Bernadetta said. She squeezed his hand. Hubert marveled at how strong she could be in the face of her fears, how it juxtaposed with how small she felt here. Hubert wanted to soothe her, if he could. If she would allow it.

“We won, Bernadetta, and things are better now. You don’t have to worry about fighting any longer.”

“I know,” she said, again, and her brows furrowed. “But… I just… I have this feeling like…”

“Like what?”

“Like… it’s not actually over. Like… we have more work to do. And that maybe I’m just goofing off by travelling with Petra.” She frowned. “It’s a dream of mine to travel the world, but am I letting Edelgard down by pursuing that?”

Hubert hummed. “Doubtless, Edelgard would say that you cannot be a disappointment to her. Bernadetta, you are free to do as you please. Work remains at the empire, but it is a new world. You aren’t beholden to stay and continue the fight.”

Bernadetta met his eyes, then, seemingly wrestling with something inside herself. She studied Hubert closely.

“What are you going to do? Now that the war is over?”

Hubert did not know what to say. Bernadetta had managed to see through to the anxiety at his core, the question of how to continue on, what to continue on to. He was grateful for the work he had, and grateful to eliminate enemies of the empire and Edelgard, but when that work was done, what would he do? He hoped to remain Edelgard’s aide for the length of her reign, but if his time with the Black Eagles taught him anything, it was that there was substance to life beyond that. Edelgard had seen it and captured it for herself, with her marriage. Hubert was unsure if he deserved such frivolous things.

“...My place is by the emperor’s side,” he settled on.

“Right,” Bernadetta said. “But… I’ve heard…”

Hubert raised an eyebrow, a silent indication to continue.

“Edelgard and I… write letters, sometimes! And I heard sometimes you come in really really late, smelling like soot and dark magic… Like you’ve been out fighting. So…” She pursed her lips. “Is the fight really over, Hubert? Or do you have something you’re continuing to do?”

Hubert would be mad were it anyone but Bernadetta figuring him out. She always had a keen eye for things that were better off hidden. He squeezed her hand, in a reassuring motion. “House Vestra has always had its own private battles.”

_ “You’re  _ House Vestra, Hubert. Just you. If… if something is troubling you, or if you’re doing something that could put you in harm’s way…” Bernadetta looked at him, and Hubert could swear he saw the twinkle of distant stars in her eyes. “I wish you would tell me.”

Hubert took a breath. She had him cornered, after all, and he trusted her with his life. Eventually, she’d find out, anyway. He did not doubt that the Black Eagles Strike Force would once again be called into battle against the slitherers, if his current leads were correct. He could share this with her.

“We’ve yet to eliminate those who slither in the dark,” he said, plainly. “I work from the shadows, doing what I can to rid the world of those who would seek to do harm to the Emperor. To all of us, if they had their way.”

Bernadetta nodded. “And you do that all by yourself?”

“It is my burden to bear.”

Her face became a silent plea. “Hubert,” she said, “If… if someone were to ask to help you…”

“Depends on who that someone is,” he said.

Bernadetta huffed. “If _ I  _ wanted to help you… to join in your battle against the slitherers... would you let me? I can’t be stagnant. Not when there’s work left, not when I can help protect Edelgard and everyone I love.”

To Hubert, it felt as near to a marriage proposal as one could get. It was as though all the air had left his lungs, so consumed was he in that moment by his feelings for Bernadetta. She would choose to stay by his side, to fight though she was scared, to abandon her dream of travelling the world all so that she could entrench herself in something she did not fully understand. He would not allow her to undertake the most dangerous tasks, still intent on protecting her from the worst of it—his duty was to paint the path before Edelgard’s feet with blood, after all. But it would be an exquisite pleasure to have Bernadetta by his side for it.

He took time to think about it, meeting Bernadetta’s gaze and looking away. If it were unclear before, it was crystal now, how desperately and terribly he adored her. Already his mind thought of the things he would have to teach her, things that would solidify her as one of his own. If he was the right hand of the Emperor, perhaps Bernadetta could learn to be Edelgard’s left. But he could not allow her to do this, not yet, not without knowing what it meant.

“Hubert,” she said, quietly. “Please?”

Hubert took a breath. He reached up, to cup her face, holding her gaze. 

“There are things you must understand about the undertaking that would be.” His voice was soft, pleading. “I have trained my whole life for this. I have done a great many terrible things in service of her majesty, because I have devoted my life to her. You don’t understand things you will have to do.”

“I could learn,” Bernadetta said, voice a low insistent murmur. “I want to learn.”

Bernadetta had always been a sharpshooter. He felt that statement as keenly as an arrow to his heart.

“We will have to discuss it further later,” he said. “I can explain more what it might entail.”

That settled something within Bernadetta. She held his gaze, and the air between them felt heavy, heavier than it had ever been. “Can I hug you?” She asked, and Hubert could not stop the way his heart beat. He could hear his pulse in his ears, mouth gone entirely dry.

“Yes,” Hubert said, voice near to a whisper.

She moved closer to him, burying her face against his chest, settling in the nape of his neck. He could feel her breathing, the way her arms wrapped around his frame. He felt the temptation to tangle their legs together, to get as close as they possibly could. He wanted to draw her into himself, to hold her chin as he had earlier and to kiss her. It would be an impossible task to pull away. He settled for threading his hands through her hair, a soothing motion. Bernadetta made a pleased noise, and Hubert’s breath caught in his throat.

It felt as though there were a million unsaid things between them. He wanted to ask what had brought her to think so deeply about him, to the point where she was writing Edelgard about him. He wanted to tell her how sincerely he adored her, the ardency with which he held her in his heart, but he could not. Did she know what her request meant to him? How could she know?

If Hubert had his way, Bernadetta would abandon the Varley name and join the Vestras, and they would manage Varley territory from afar while fighting their battle together, as husband and wife. He had only just come to the conclusion that he loved her, and yet here he was, considering marriage. He supposed it was just the fact that Edelgard was getting married so soon that had him thinking about it, but it surprised him how badly he wanted it, as well. 

Soon, Bernadetta’s breathing slowed, growing even and soft. He could feel her breath against his neck as he held her in his arms, and the rhythmic sound of it lulled him into relaxation. Hubert laid there, aching for her, until sleep finally took him as well.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains a myriad of hours later. Hubert did not have any idea what time it was when he woke up. All he could feel was Bernadetta, curled up against him, the two of them on their sides facing the same way. His arm was around her waist, and their legs were tangled together. Bernadetta was still fast asleep, and Hubert was loathe to wake her and break this moment.

If they  _ were  _ married, he thought, they could wake up like this every day, if they pleased. If they were married, he could even get up earlier than her, slip out of their bed and make Bernadetta’s favorite blend of tea for her. Over breakfast they could discuss their dockett for the day. If they were married, he could lean in and kiss the back of her neck, or along the delicate curvature of her collarbones, and perhaps they could stay in bed for longer than expected, to-do list be damned.

These were dangerous thoughts to have as she slept next to him, and so, though he did not wish to, Hubert slowly began moving to untangle himself from her. Bernadetta, half asleep, made a protesting noise when he began to move, and Hubert could not help the affectionate chuckle he gave in response. He was surprised when Bernadetta turned over and wrapped her arms around him.

“Stay still,” she murmured, tugging him back to lie down. Hubert, as always, was helpless in her wake. 

“You do realize there is much work to be done?” He said, fondness leaking through in his tone. He did not have the energy to coach himself as he usually did—he was certain after he had coffee, he’d do better. He would have to do better.

Bernadetta shook her head, and nuzzled closer to him. “Later,” she whined. “Don’t go yet, Hubert… o-oh…”

Bernadetta blinked, and pulled away. She looked up at him, as though she finally realized exactly what it was she was doing and to whom, and with a speed that surprised the both of them, she got up and out of bed. Her hair was all over the place, the edges of it flipping up and defying gravity. Hubert sat up in his bed, and ran a hand through his own hair.

“I’m sorry,” Bernadetta squeaked. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright,” Hubert said, already mourning the loss of her presence next to him. “You were still half asleep.”

“Right,” Bernadetta said, voice a jumble of words. In the light of day, it felt too easy to see the way her nightdress looked on her, the stark white in contrast with her purple hair, and the dusting of rose across her cheeks. Hubert did not let his eyes wander. “I’m, um—I’m gonna go… get dressed! And then we can get back to work. A-after breakfast!”

“After breakfast,” Hubert said, with a nod. Bernadetta fled from the room, leaving Hubert alone with his thoughts.

They would have a long talk ahead of them, about the slitherers, and Edelgard, and all of it. When he was in the stark light of day, it was harder to justify what he wanted.

Hubert wanted Bernadetta by his side. He wanted to be her romantic partner, to slay those enemies of the empire with her. He thought that they might make a very deadly pair. His thoughts were contradictory, however. He also wanted to protect her from the worst of himself, to shield her from his feelings. As he sat there on his bed, thinking about all of these things, he could feel a headache coming on.

* * *

Still, breakfast waited for no one. Hubert rose, got dressed, and went down the stairs to see Bernadetta again.

Breakfast was not as awkward as he worried it might be. Coffee was the solution to his indiscretion, as he had predicted. Bernadetta seemed determined to not bring it up until Hubert did, and Hubert wanted to wait until they were somewhere private, where they would not be interrupted. 

Sorting through belongings was tedious work, as ever, but Bernadetta seemed in good spirits. She kept glancing at Hubert, furtively, as if trying to communicate with her eyes, but Hubert did not respond in kind. They continued at it for a good long time, mostly quiet, though it was not unpleasant.

Finally, Hubert looked at the way the sun set over Varley manor, and he turned to Bernadetta. “I was thinking about walking the grounds,” he said.

“Oh! Were you?” Bernadetta looked at him, trying to read his eyes.

“I was. Would you join me?”

Bernadetta nodded. The two pulled on their shoes by the door, and with Hubert leading the way, they began to meander around the grounds of Varley manor.

There was a very impressive garden around the manor, with a gazebo covered in crawling vines, and a bench that was tucked rather out of the way. With the sun setting, Hubert doubted anyone would be nearby, and so he led Bernadetta there, ensuring they weren’t followed. It was all quiet, save the chirping of the crickets, and when Hubert sat, he motioned for Bernadetta to sit next to him.

She took her seat, facing Hubert with keen interest in her eyes. “So…” she said, gathering her hands in her lap.

“So,” he responded.

“Are we going to talk about—about the…” She looked around, voice growing conspiratorial. “Your private battles.”

Hubert nodded. “Yes. My fight against those who slither in the dark,” he said. “I do not know if having you join me is the best course of action, Bernadetta.”

Bernadetta shook her head. “If it’s because of my skills, Hubert, I promise—you won’t find me lacking. I’m really strong now, and Petra’s been teaching me how to sneak around and be quiet. I even snuck up on you, remember?” 

Hubert nodded. “I remember, and it is not that. Rest assured, if it were your skills alone, I would easily have you join me. I just do not think you’ve thought through the ramifications of what joining me would mean.”

“I have, though! Hubert, I…” Bernadetta balled her hands up into fists in her lap, with a huff. “I’ve thought about it a lot. For a long time. I know you think… you think you’re bad, and all you can do is serve, and you carve a bloody path and all that, but…”

He could hear Bernadetta wrestling with what it was she wanted to say. He stayed silent, letting her figure out exactly what she wanted to say.

“I want to join you in that fight. No matter what it takes, or what I have to do. I fought with the Black Eagles, and you know I love Edelgard…” She furrows her brows. “I want to protect her, and everyone else. Edelgard is enacting policy to make sure that the things that happened to me won’t happen to anyone else… if I can repay her by making sure the people who hurt her are dead, I want to. No matter how difficult the training is, or how many bad people I have to kill, I’ll do it. I want—I want to be by your side.”

Her eyes searched him. Hubert was determined to hold steadfast, but sighed. It was ridiculous, quite frankly. He was the scariest man in the empire, Edelgard’s right hand, and yet here he was, being broken down by Bernadetta. He could try to push her away, to protect her, but she would return, of that much he was certain. He put his own gloved hands on top of hers, giving her a meaningful look. 

“My life is in constant danger. I have to suspect everyone. Trust is near impossible. I work, constantly. Beyond all that, above everything else—I do not want to put your life at risk too, Bernadetta.” His brows knit together in worry. “If my fight cost you your life…”

“It won’t.” Bernadetta’s voice was as firm as he ever heard it. “Hubert, you would never let me die, and I would never let you die, either. It makes me sick with worry to think about you out there, with no one to watch your back.” She turned her hands over, holding his tightly.

Hubert sighed. “...Why don’t we ask Edelgard what she thinks?”

“She’d approve,” Bernadetta said. “Why don’t you want me to do this for you?”

Hubert could not say  _ Because I love you,  _ and so he bit his tongue. “Because,” he said instead, “I want to protect you.”

“And  _ I  _ want to protect you!” Bernadetta shook her head. “You… you don’t have to say yes right now. Obviously I know it’s… it’s important to take your time, and this is your… your private wars, right? But… know that I want to be there with you.”

Hubert squeezed Bernadetta’s hands. “I will take my time with this. I cannot give you a yes or no as of today. But, please, Bernadetta… think about the fact that if you put your life at risk… how difficult it might be to do things like build relationships, and settle down. I do not know if your dreams for the future include marriage and children, but if they do...”

Bernadetta turned pink, and fidgeted in her seat, as if Hubert’s gaze was too much for her to bear at that moment. “I—I mean. I’ve thought about it.” She looked around, eyes settling on some of the creeping ivy nearby. “Everyone’s thought about it, right? Getting um… married to someone you love…”

Hubert’s heart fell. Of course Bernadetta had been thinking about those sorts of things. She deserved a happy life, by the side of a person she loved, with all the joys of marriage. This steeled his resolve. With no hope of any sort of relationship with her, he could stop himself from wanting her to fight by his side. Somehow, he could convince Bernadetta to not do this.

“I’m certain whoever you are thinking of, they would not be happy to hear that you were about to toss your lot in with me,” he said, seriously.

“Maybe,” Bernadetta said. Her eyes flicked to him, and she bit her lip. 

“I’m sure of it.” He released her hands. “We will talk about it later, after the reunion dinner.”

Bernadetta sighed. “Right. Okay. And… and you’ll stay at the manor? I know you’re busy, but...”

“I wouldn’t leave a job half done,” Hubert said. ”We’ve yet to complete sorting through your father’s things, correct?”

“Right,” Bernadetta said. She took his hands again, so shortly after Hubert had let her go, and let out a little breath. “Thank you for not saying no outright.”

“If there is anyone that I would give a chance for something like this, it would be you, Bernadetta.” He meant that sincerely.

Bernadetta looked a little embarrassed. She was still learning to accept praise, it seemed. Hubert looked at their hands, joined, and thought to himself that it would be inappropriate to continue to hold her here like this. Especially now that he knew that Bernadetta had someone in mind for a future relationship. He would not take Bernadetta’s affection when it was clearly meant for another, and it would be better to not get his own hopes up about anything happening between them.

Bernadetta met his eyes, and it seemed she wanted to say something. “...Do you want to see my secret spot in the garden?” She said, words coming in a rush.

Hubert studied her, and nodded. “...Certainly. Lead the way, Bernadetta.”

She stood, leaving her hand in Hubert’s hand, and led him to the edge of the property, where the trees met the hedges. She weaved through several large topiaries, to an exceedingly large weeping willow. She parted the wisps of the willow like a curtain, and Hubert followed after her.

The last fading light of the sunset leaked in through the branches, leaving dappled specks dancing across both of their faces. The sky had since turned dusky, twilight settling around the both of them. 

“I loved this tree when I was little,” she said. “Every time I had a bad day, or I needed someone to talk to, or anything, I’d come sit right here.” Bernadetta sat next to the tree, tucking her legs under herself. She patted the spot next to her. “I never really imagined that I’d be able to bring someone else here. I was really lonely as a kid… I mean, considering that my only friends in the world were a tree and my stuffed animals.” She laughed, but it was bittersweet.

Hubert was loathe to imagine Bernadetta as a small child, sad and alone, with only a tree to speak to when she was in trouble or hurt. It felt horrible to know that she had been hurting so badly, and yet none came to her rescue.

That she trusted him enough to allow him at her special spot like this meant the world to Hubert. He sat next to her, watching the way the light played on her hair. He could not help but see her beauty, the way she’d grown over the years to become the confident woman that he was happy to spend time with. He thought again of how it felt to have Bernadetta curled against him as they slept, how he wished he could brush through her hair for her, to be allowed to have more soft, intimate moments. He wanted them with her, but she would never want them with him, that much had become clear.

Hubert squeezed her hand, and let her go.

“Thank you for allowing me to see it,” he said. “You must value my friendship, hm?”

“Of course I do,” she said, giving him a soft smile. “You’re so important to me, Hubert.” She reached out to touch the flower pin that he had attached to his lapel. “I don’t make these for just anybody, after all."

Hubert nodded, wanting badly to hold her hand there, to lean in and kiss her under the willow. Just once—once was all he needed, and then he could move on. How tragic, then, that he would never be able to experience how Bernadetta’s lips might feel pressed to his own.

“You are too kind to me,” he said, and tore his gaze away from her own. “Perhaps we should head in for the night. It’s going to get cold, soon.”

Bernadetta nodded. “Yeah… you’re right. Plus, I’m sure they made tea for us.”

“Right.” Hubert stood, helping Bernadetta up. She didn’t fall, this time, and Hubert was grateful for it. He could not stop thinking about kissing her, after all, and if she fell into his arms it would make the pain of not doing so much worse. She took his hand, and began walking back to the manor.

It was a lovely night out. Fireflies began drifting across the grounds, lighting in little flashes. It was, altogether, a magical scene. Hubert had never been one for scenery, but it was hard not to notice how lovely it was—although perhaps it was just the company.

It was easy to get lost in how nice this felt. Being here with Bernadetta was a gift, but at the end of the day, it was temporary. They would return to the palace, have dinner with the rest of the Black Eagles, and Bernadetta would forget all about joining him. She would see whoever it was she had feelings for, and remember what she had to live for, and leave Hubert to his work in the shadows, where he belonged. As soon as that was over, things would return to normal. Hubert was certain of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh geez okay sorry this one took so long! as always thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy. as a note, your comments have meant absolutely everything to me. thank you all for being so sweet!


	5. idle daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert tries distance. Bernadetta gets destructive. The two reminisce.

Hubert, now with renewed interest in maintaining a respectful distance, spent the rest of the week with Bernadetta finishing up the house. He had some time to himself, after all, Bernadetta needed time alone too, so in the meantime he wrapped up his letter to Edelgard explaining how he was feeling, and sent it off. She’d have to respond when they returned to Enbarr.

They still spent time together, of course—it was all they could do. If Bernadetta sought his comfort and company, he would give it to her. He had never been good at denying her outright. But Hubert dutifully maintained his façade of distance throughout. There would be no more late nights in his bed, no more holding hands in the garden, and certainly no holding her while she wept in her bedroom. Thankfully, for most of the rest of the week, she did not cry; or if she did, she did so in private. Hubert watched carefully for the signs of emotional distress and did not detect them, so it seemed everything he’d done for the past few days had helped.

Bernadetta, for her part, had mostly cheered up about the whole process. It seemed all she really needed was a friend to get through the very worst of it. The staff running the house was pleased to run any errand for her, and by the last day, everything had been packed up and cleared out. Everything save Count Varley’s room.

As the two stood on the precipice of it, staring at the door, Bernadetta’s hand naturally sought Hubert’s. He held hers, if only because this would be the biggest hurdle of them all. He looked down at her in an attempt to be reassuring.

“Will you be alright?”

Bernadetta pursed her lips. “I don’t know yet,” she said, honestly. “I might have another total breakdown.”

“As I said before, I will be by your side for it.” As a friend, and only a friend. He was fine with that.

“Thank you,” she said. “I… I really don’t know what I would have done without you this week, Hubert. I’m gonna have to make sure I get you a really really nice thank you gift…”

“Please, it won’t be necessary,” he said, shaking his head.

Bernadetta pouted. “Let me make things for you! I like doing it, it’s fun for me.”

He could not help the amused smile that crossed his face. “If it is fun for you, then I suppose there’s no harm.”

Bernadetta nodded, seemingly satisfied, and squeezed his hand. “...Okay. Here goes nothing.”

She turned the doorknob to her father’s room, and the door opened.

Count Varley’s room was just normal. It betrayed none of the vileness that Count Varley held inside of himself. Still, the feeling in the air was heavy, like there was a pressure that hung around well after the man had died. Hubert looked to Bernadetta, who stood there. At first, a cold silence fell over her, but as she stood, she began breathing heavily, breaths coming in with great effort. Hubert looked at her from the corner of his eye, and she could see the way she balled her fists up at her sides. Bernadetta was not simply upset—she was  _ angry. _

After an eternity of waiting for Bernadetta to make the first move, she stepped forward. She went to the bed, took the edge of the sheets, which were carefully made, and pulled at them. Pillows went tumbling. She stalked to the side of the bed, to a lantern that sat there next to a fountain pen set. She picked it up, and dropped it on the floor, making the thing shatter.

“Bernadetta?” Hubert questioned, growing increasingly alarmed. Bernadetta didn’t respond, instead went to her father’s writing desk, grabbed the chair there, and pulled it out roughly, turning it over. She pulled out the drawers of the desk, overturning them, ensuring papers flew everywhere, and for good measure she took a small stack of papers and ripped them in half.

“Bernadetta,” Hubert said, stepping forward. “Perhaps you should—”

“No,” she said, and turned to the heavy black curtains that hung over the windows, blocking out the light. She tore them down, ripping them from their fastenings, with a loud cry. “Fuck! Goddess, damn it!  _ Fuck!” _

Hubert gathered his hands in front of himself. She would need to tire herself out with this first. The urge for destruction was one he understood very well, though his anger had always burned more like ice than like fire. Bernadetta had control wrested from her for so much of her life—this was her asserting her own control. If destroying the environment that her father spent much of his life in helped her, Hubert was fine with that. It was her home, after all.

Bernadetta stomped around the room, weaving her destruction left and right, ranting about all of the things she hated about her father all the while. Hubert supposed it might just be easier to set the room alight, if she was so intent on ripping it to shreds. He stood in the middle of the maelstrom as though it were not whirling all around him, Bernadetta angrily tossing things left and right, smashing everything she could get her hands on. 

“And  _ this,”  _ Bernadetta said, taking a vase off of a shelf rather violently, “Is for—owww!”

Hubert did not see how, but the thing had shattered in one place, and a shard of it had cut across Bernadetta’s hand. This, finally, spurred him to action. It was her home to do with as she pleased, but she didn’t deserve to get injured while doing it. He put one hand on her shoulder, turning her around towards him, and in one smooth motion, pulled her hand close to examine.

“Stand still for just a moment,” he murmured. Hubert had never been one for faith magic, but it had proven useful to study the tomefaire for one simple healing spell. Dark magic flowed from him far more easily, but for Bernadetta, he would do this. 

Tears rolled down Bernadetta’s cheeks. It seemed the fire had ebbed in her, somewhat. Hubert’s magic traced across her wound, knitting the flesh together, leaving behind one thin white mark. Hubert had seen Mercedes do this without leaving any marks behind at all, and he wished that he’d listened more carefully to how she managed to do it.

Bernadetta sniffled, miserably, and looked at Hubert. “...You must think I’m so stupid,” she said.

“Don’t be foolish,” Hubert said. “I understand perfectly why you’d do this.”

Bernadetta sighed, balling up her other fist in her trousers. “Good thing you do, because I have no idea.”

“For control,” Hubert said, simply. “You did not have control for many years of your life. Now you do.”

Bernadetta looked at him, eyes wide with something approaching wonder. “...How do you read me so well?”

A smile played at the corner of his lips. “Would you prefer it being the years of friendship, that I’m trained to read people, or that I can relate?”

“Figures it’s a combination of the three,” Bernadetta said. She rubbed her eyes with the hand not being currently held by Hubert, and let out a breath, almost relieved. “Fuck.”

“I haven’t heard you swear like this in many years,” Hubert said. 

Bernadetta ran a hand down her face, unable to help the smile on her face. “You remember that night?”

Hubert nodded. “I was probably the only one of the Black Eagles that did.”

Before the very last battle, before Rhea laid siege to Fhirdiad, the Black Eagles Strike Force had done what many do before a war ends—they had gotten completely trashed, the lot of them. Hubert had abstained from most of it. Alcohol had never been his vice of choice, and he was fine making sure that none of the rest of the Black Eagles did anything particularly stupid.

As the night wore on, with everyone letting loose, Bernadetta—who was very drunk—sidled up to him, giving him what he could only describe as a sloppy grin.

“You’re wearing it,” she said, and tapped his chest twice. Where once, she’d be afraid to do so, she was boldly pointing at Hubert’s flower pin, the one she’d given him only a few days prior.

“Why, yes,” Hubert said. He gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Already, I’ve received several comments about how it makes me look… oh, how was it that Ferdinand put it… ridiculous?”

“Ferdie is stupid,” Bernadetta said, loudly, so that she could be heard over the racuous sound of Dorothea and Leonie singing some sort of duet. Manuela was playing the piano, and Caspar was dancing along. Altogether it made a ridiculous picture, but they should have their fun as they please. “He’s—Hubert, he’s fucking dumb.”

Hubert blinked, and then smirked. “Is he now?”

“I don’t mean that,” she said, and put her arm around Hubert’s shoulder. “I love everyone! I really love everyone… Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Your secrets, as ever, are safe with me.”

Bernadetta giggled. “Um, you know, I like how you talk, Hubert!”

“...I’m fond of your manner of speaking as well,” he said. Better to just appease her, he supposed, although there was truth to the statement. 

“Fond,” Bernadetta said. “Mmhmm. Are you fond of me?”

If he were to characterize how he felt about Bernadetta, it would be more like, rather than dislike. “I am,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“And who else?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We are all allies, are we not? I am fond of many of us.”

“Yeah but—Hubert, you aren’t getting it.”

“I don’t think you’re explaining it, Bernadetta.” Hubert crossed his leg over the other, leaning back in his seat.

Bernadetta giggled at that, and kicked her own legs out. “Geez! You’re funny.”

“That might just be all the wine in your system.”

Bernadetta pouted. “I think you’re funny a lot, you know.” She squeezed his shoulder.

“That would make you the first,” Hubert said, with a hum.

“I dunno… lots of people really like you.” Bernadetta giggled. “Even if you don’t think so. Wanna dance?”

Hubert blinked. “Dance? I don’t think—”

Bernadetta moved to stand, but stumbled, and fell flat on the ground. Hubert stood, and stooped down to pick her up. 

“...I don’t think  _ you’re  _ up to that, Bernadetta.” He scooped her up in his arms, carrying her like one might carry a princess. 

Bernadetta whined. “Maybe… ah, fuck. I fucked this all up!” She patted his chest twice.

“Mm,” Hubert said, with a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You’ve had a great night. I think it might be time to go to bed.”

“Oh, to bed?” Bernadetta leaned against him. “You’re taking me?”

“Yes, I am.” He trudged out of the room with a cursory nod to Linhardt, who was perched at a table, sipping at a glass of something pink. Linhardt waved him on, with a small smile.

“Maybe I didn’t,” Bernadetta said. “Fuck it up, you know.” Hubert was unsure what she meant by that, and by that point, he was so set on returning her safe to her room, that he wasn’t paying complete attention to her slurred words. 

They finally reached Bernadetta’s bedroom, and Hubert knelt down to return her to her bed. Hubert had every intention of releasing her, but she grabbed his lapels and pulled, until he was very nearly on top of her.

“You have to let go in order for me to put you to bed, you know.” Hubert said. He attempted to pull away, and thankfully, Bernadetta’s grip was rather slack, but it seemed she was intent on having him close.

“Mmhmm,” Bernadetta said, in agreement. Hubert shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bernadetta.” He tried to pull away once more, and Bernadetta whined.

“Hubert…” She said. “You should… You should stay!”

“I’ve a duty to ensure that everyone else stays safe.” He said.

“Your duty,” Bernadetta said, as though she were the authority on the subject, “is to stick around.”

“I’ll stick around. Don’t worry.”

Bernadetta looked at him then, and her hand moved to cup his face. Her thumb rubbed against his cheek, soft and slow. “...You’ll stay safe? Even… even when we face off against Rhea?”

Hubert nodded. “You don’t have to keep me by your side in order for me to be safe when we capture Fhirdiad. Please, do not worry about me, Bernadetta. We will succeed.”

“I know,” she said. “But I can’t help but worry about you… you and everyone… I love you all…”

“And everyone adores you,” Hubert said. It was fact, after all. There was hardly a person in Garreg Mach who could say that they did not know and appreciate Bernadetta. She’d touched the lives of everyone she met. He looked at her with an impossible fondness in his heart, and though he was afraid for the upcoming battle, he had confidence that it would go well. Edelgard and Byleth would lead them through the worst of it, and they would come out the other side, changing Fódlan for good, forever.

“I adore you,” Bernadetta said. She giggled. 

“You’re very drunk,” Hubert said, with a snort. He removed himself from her, and went back downstairs, to the rest of the party. That night was a good one, certainly, but the matter at hand, so to speak, was Bernadetta’s hand. Hubert shook himself out of the recollection, and with one last push, healed Bernadetta’s hand fully.

Bernadetta, now, with her hand still in Hubert’s, shook her head. “God, I was—I was so embarrassing that night… I’m sorry,” she said.

“You’ve apologized enough for that night already,” Hubert said. “At least at the celebration afterwards, I was able to cut loose as well.”

Bernadetta laughed, and Hubert was glad that he had been able to lighten her just the slightest. The room was still thoroughly wrecked, but that would be a problem for after Bernadetta had time to process all of this. She seemed as though she needed a minute.

He squeezed her hand twice, fully intending on letting her go, but she threaded her fingers with his, instead.

“...We, um…” Bernadetta said. “That night. I wanted you to stay with me.”

“...You did,” Hubert said, furrowing his brows. “Why do you bring it up now?”

“Because,” Bernadetta said, breath catching in her throat. “I wanted you to stay, and you went anyway. But… I asked you to stay, this time, and you stayed.”

Hubert felt confused. “What do you mean by that, Bernadetta?”

They were close. Hubert had not exactly noticed  _ how  _ close with Bernadetta’s injury being the most pressing thing on his mind, but now that they were poised mere inches apart, he could not help but notice. The space between them felt electric, like the space between magnets. There was a push and pull between them, and Hubert was helpless to it.

“I think… I think that…” Bernadetta began, and Hubert noted how her dark lashes fluttered, her grey eyes searching his face. “I…”

Hubert held his breath. He could not stop this pull. Something tugged him ever forward, and he knew, this time, he was helpless to his own instincts. He had wanted to kiss her every day since arriving here, and now here they were, with the perfect opportunity. He looked to Bernadetta’s lips, and then to her eyes. Hubert pushed forward ever so slightly, mind solely focused on the moment, which is why he did not hear the approach of footsteps.

“Lady Bernadetta,” came a voice from the door, “Is everything alright? We heard crashing noises...”

Hubert could not tell who leapt away faster. Bernadetta was suddenly several feet away from him, rather than the mere inches that were between their faces, and she took a sharp inhale.

“Frieda!” Bernadetta said. She looked to her maid, then around the room, and she held her hands up. “Frieda—Frieda, I had to… I… I don’t know! I…”

Hubert spoke up, finally pushing past his own shock. “Bernadetta was rather upset. Please, do not trouble yourselves.”

“It isn’t trouble,” Frieda said, concern in her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m fine!” Bernadetta said, voice raising higher and higher. “Totally good… just needed to destroy my dad’s stuff. Um. We just need to uh, trash this stuff, and it’ll be all good. I think I just want to, um, get rid of this room! So! I’ll look into getting an architect, and I’ll uhh… I’ll do that!”

Frieda looked confused, but nodded all the same. “Right. We’ll get started on cleaning, then.”

“No, no, please, it was my fault…” Frieda began walking away, and Bernadetta, determined to do this herself, began following after. Hubert stepped out of the room, looked at Bernadetta following Frieda, and then down at his hands.

He had just nearly kissed Bernadetta. This situation had become far too dangerous to remain any longer. If he wished to maintain any semblance of their friendship, he would have to stop himself.

Doubtless, he could warp to town, and return for the Black Eagles reunion dinner by himself first. He could only imagine how the carriage ride might be, with the weight of the thing he had nearly done, the friendship he had so nearly destroyed. He stood there in the hallway, hands shaking, and started off towards his room, to begin packing.

It was only a short few moments later that Bernadetta entered. She seemed a little overwhelmed, perhaps breathless. 

“Oh, Hubert, I’m sorry, they—they don’t want me to fix it myself, I tried convincing them but it was this whole thing, I didn’t mean to leave you…” She paused, and watched him putting his things in his bag. Her eyes widened. “...Hubert? What… are you doing?”

“Packing,” he said. “I’ll need to return shortly.”

“You… need to return?” Bernadetta looked so frail. “But I thought…”

“It is unfortunate, Bernadetta. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing to be done about it.”

“But… what about…”

“We finished, did we not?” Hubert’s voice was sharp. “The only thing left is cleaning up your father’s room, and your staff will be happy to take care of it for you. Let them help, Bernadetta.”

Bernadetta looked at him, wringing her hands together in front of herself, the picture of unhappiness.

“I thought... you were going to stay?” She said. There was weight to that question. Bernadetta cared about this, cared about the two of them leaving the manor together. Hubert looked at her, with his brows furrowed.

Hubert knew very well that he was at a crossroads. If he stayed alone with Bernadetta like this any longer, he would act on his feelings. He could not think of anything worse than that. It wasn’t enough that he wanted her to go off and fight those who slither in the dark with him, he selfishly wanted her to be his  _ wife  _ as well. If he said yes, if he stayed like she requested, he would be dooming Bernadetta to a life he was certain she wouldn’t want for herself. Hubert steeled himself, eyes sharpening like a razor’s edge.

“I have stayed,” he said. “And now I have to go.”

Bernadetta blinked. She settled into herself, wilting like a flower. It was for her own good that he left, even if it hurt him terribly to see her like this.

She didn’t say anything further, simply exited the room without a word. Hubert gathered his things, ignoring the way his heart ached. It was for the best. He passed by Frieda in the hallway, who regarded him curiously.

“Leaving already?” She asked.

“Unfortunately. I do not know where Bernadetta is, but let her know the carriage will still be arriving to pick her up for the reunion dinner.” Hubert adjusted his cloak. “And… let her know she’s done very well, this week. I’ll see her in a day.”

Frieda nodded. “I’ll be certain to. Safe travels, Lord Vestra.”

Hubert exited the manor, shutting the door firmly behind him. That would be the end of his idle daydreams. He would not act on his feelings for Bernadetta, now having thoroughly ruined any chance they might be more than what they were, for her sake. He could continue his own private wars, by himself, unburdened by any such dreams of marriage or love. He would be alone. He was always fine being alone.

Hubert cast warp, allowing the dark magic to wrap around himself, shielding him from the eyes he felt staring at him from the Varley Manor.

He did not turn back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, an update 4 days after my last one? shocking. i already have the next chapter done as well, and i'm working on what might be the final (and i've planned an epilogue.) please do let me know what you thought! i read every comment and i try to respond to all of them. thank you all so much!


	6. real feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reunion dinner. Hubert deals with some difficult feelings. Edelgard speaks with him.

Hubert was exceedingly late returning to Enbarr.

He had gotten thoroughly sidetracked. On the way home, he’d followed a lead regarding the slitherers, since his work did not ever truly end. He hadn’t planned on doing so early, but with everything going on, it would make for a nice distraction. Something to keep his mind off of things. Besides, it was on the way, so it felt like the perfect opportunity.

The lead had turned out to be a dead end, but it had taken him longer than he’d expected to get there. So, on the night of the Black Eagles Reunion Dinner, a mere thirty minutes before Hubert was expected to be ready, he returned to the palace.

Hubert deftly moved into his room, where the clothing that he’d chosen was hung out for him to wear. He took what might have been the quickest shower of his life, washing away the remains of what he’d done. The guard had paled when Hubert walked in without a word, and Hubert preferred it that way. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. The staff would know that he was in a foul mood, and so they’d leave him alone. Besides, on this night of all nights, there were other more important things to attend to rather than their surly Minister of Imperial Household.

Hubert looked at himself in the mirror, drying his hair as quickly as he could, but found that he still looked exhausted. There remained some wetness at his roots, so his hair flopped down, making him look rather flat. He adjusted his crisp white collar, tucked into his pants with a higher waist than usual, which typically might make him look something approaching handsome, but tonight it just made him feel out of place. He had bags under his eyes; and even Hubert could not deny that his frown looked ghastly. He sighed, deeply. If his mind drifted back to how rested he looked and felt while sharing close quarters with Bernadetta, he did not acknowledge it.

There was nothing to be done for his appearance tonight. He’d have dinner with the rest of the Black Eagles Strike Force, return to his room, and sleep off the night. Tomorrow he would toss himself into a new lead. When he saw Bernadetta at the dinner tonight, he would maintain a respectful distance. They did not need to discuss what had happened. It was for the best.

With five minutes to spare, Hubert found his way into the grand hall, where the dinner was being held. The entirety of the Black Eagles Strike Force was already gathered there, save Mercedes, who was late for nearly everything. 

Edelgard sat at the head of the table, Byleth next to her. There was an open spot to Edelgard’s right, where Hubert assumed he was meant to sit. Lysithea was next to Byleth and Leonie next to her. Manuela and Shamir were sitting side by side gossiping about somesuch, and when Mercedes came in, she sat next to them, a big grin on her face. Linhardt, Caspar, and Ferdinand were having a boisterous conversation while Dorothea sipped her wine, interjecting at key points. Across from Lysithea and Leonie sat Petra and Bernadetta, and Hubert was glad Bernadetta was at least a little further from him. She attempted to catch his eyes, but Hubert did not look her way, for fear that it might encourage a conversation.

Hubert took his seat, and Edelgard looked at him, concerned. Within her eyes was a promise to talk later, Hubert could tell that much, but Edelgard rose instead, and gave a warm smile to the rest of the table. 

“Now that we’re all here, I did just want to say a few words,” Edelgard said. When she spoke, everyone listened. That was the sort of effect Edelgard had on people, although the Strike Force was a little different from most people. “Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for attending our reunion dinner. Life since the war has been full of joy and hardships for all of us, but I know for certain that I am not the only one who misses having you all by my side for it.”

“Hear hear!” Leonie said, and the table laughed. Edelgard smiled fondly at her.

“We certainly are a raucous bunch. Well; the point remains, seeing you all lightens my heart immensely. A leader is only as good as her team, and I have been graced with the best team I could imagine. Though it has been some time since our victory against the evils of the Church and the Archbishop, I still feel the euphoria as keenly now as I did the day we won.” Edelgard looked at them, a triumphant grin on her face. “It has been heartening to see you all thrive, now that the worst of the fighting is over.”

Plenty of them were thriving. Hubert could not help but think of Bernadetta as Edelgard said that, and his eyes drifted to her, just for a moment. At that very second, Bernadetta’s eyes met his. Having been caught trying to look at her, Hubert looked down at his wine, feeling foolish. He thought to himself that he might just try to excuse himself early, if only it would not offend Edelgard.

“Some of us, even, have been granted further opportunities to thrive thanks to our bonds. Linhardt’s crest research has proven extremely fruitful, as you all might be able to tell.” Edelgard gestured at her hair, which had been growing out brown, and then to Lysithea, who’s own hair had been growing out a pale pink. 

Lysithea grinned, and waved at the table. “It’s been nice to be able to go up a flight of stairs without getting winded.”

“As you’ve told me several times,” Linhardt said.

“And I’ll keep telling you! I’ll tell anyone who will listen.”

“She’s told me no less than twenty times on our ride over,” Leonie said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. 

“You keep listening, Leo, seems that one is on you.” Lysithea sipped at her drink, which was some sort of blue cocktail.

“She’s right,” Edelgard said, amused. “As I was saying—you are all thriving in your own way. I, in my own way, love each and every one of you dearly, and I feel nothing short of exuberant to see you all so happy. I suppose it is my impending marriage making me so sappy,” and at this, she spared a soft look to Byleth, “But I wanted to toast us tonight to something that has made a difference in all of our lives. To love.”

“To love,” the rest of the table said, and Hubert muttered. They all clinked their glasses together, and with that, dinner began.

The whole group began chatting quickly, though Hubert was not in the mood for it. Edelgard turned to him, leaned in close.

“You got in rather late,” she said, quietly. “I expected you to arrive with Bernadetta.”

“My sincerest apologies, Lady Edelgard,” he said. “Something came up.”

“We’ll discuss it later,” she said, and gave him a meaningful look. 

“Discuss what?” Leonie asked, setting down her mug of beer.

“My lateness.” Hubert smirked. “Tactful as ever, Ms Pinelli. How goes the mercenary business?”

“Making a killing!” Leonie said, with a cheesy grin. Shamir, who had been listening in, shook her head.

“That was terrible,” she said. 

“You really think?”

“I know so.” Shamir shook her head.

“You ought to listen to her, darling, she tends to be right about most things.” Manuela giggled. Shamir, who had her arm around Manuela, leaned in close to her.

“You aren’t just saying that because I’m your wife, now are you?” Shamir raised an eyebrow, though there was good humor there.

“I wouldn’t!” Manuela said, nose in the air. “I speak nothing but truths, dearest.”

Petra, who was on Shamir’s opposite side, grinned. “Then I should be asking the question we’re all thinking: How old are you really, Manuela?”

Bernadetta, who was seated next to Petra, giggled. “And I thought I was a sharpshooter…”

Everyone found that very amusing. Petra slung her arm around Bernadetta, and gave her a wide grin. Hubert noted the way Bernadetta responded to the affection, leaning into it easily, as though it were commonplace. He supposed they had gotten rather close in their travels. If he were to hazard a guess as to who Bernadetta had thought about marrying and building a future with; it would be Petra. 

“I might be sharp with my words, Bernie, but nobody has better aim than you!” Petra squeezed Bernadetta’s shoulder.

“Oh, my… such praise from the Queen of Brigid!” Bernadetta said. She gave Petra a sort of conspiratorial grin.

Petra responded in kind. “Lady Bernadetta, such praise is not enough for one such as you!”

“Queen Petra, what will everyone think…!” 

Petra leaned in, and tapped her finger against Bernadetta’s nose. “Let them think what they please, for we know the truth.”

This sent Bernadetta into a fit of giggles. Hubert did not realize that he had been staring so intently until Petra caught his gaze, and gave him a smile. Hubert hazarded a half grin back, though it felt foreign on his face, and returned to staring down at his food, which he only picked at. 

He knew very well what the feeling settling in his gut was, and it made him sick. As if he had any right to be envious of Bernadetta’s relationship with Petra, who very clearly cared for her deeply, and would be a wonderful match for her. They were allowed to have their own in-jokes, to be affectionate with each other, to be as clearly in love as they were, and Hubert would simply have to deal with it. Beyond that, Petra was one of his dearest friends. Feeling upset with her felt bad, to put it lightly. Hubert felt like a petulant child that had destroyed his own toy and gotten mad when it didn’t work any longer.

At least it would help him quash the remaining feelings he had for Bernadetta. It was better to have reminders of the truth; the truth being that Bernadetta would not and should not have feelings for him, that she was better off in a relationship with someone else, and that she would forget about the private wars of House Vestra and move on with her life. 

She deserved a full life, with all the things she could ever want. Hubert would have to live with the memories of holding her in his arms, and let go of the fantasy of being able to be the one she trusted to provide with such things.

Edelgard had clearly put a lot of effort into the food. There were a great many courses, each grander than the last, and to finish off the night, she made sure there were desserts to each guest’s preference. Hubert hardly touched any of it, even the dark chocolate cake that Edelgard knew was his favorite. He spent the meal quiet, simply not in the mood to join in the revelry. 

People left the table at their own time. After all, the palace was free for them to stay in and explore, and Hubert was sure many of them would like to. The moment Linhardt was full, they had set off to the library, which was very amusing to everyone. It seemed they were now free to exit as they pleased, and Hubert in particular was ready to head to his study and go back to work; if only for the fact that it would allow him space to stop stewing over his own jealousy.

He turned to Edelgard. “I am going to retire for the night, Lady Edelgard. Should you have need of me, I’ll be in my study.” 

Edelgard looked to the rest of the Black Eagles at the table, then to Hubert, and tapped her fingers against the table. “I’ll be there shortly, Hubert, just give me a moment.”

Hubert nodded and stood. He could tell Bernadetta was trying to catch his eye, and when he stood, she scooted her chair back, as if to follow, but she was stopped by Petra.

“Bernadetta, would you want to explore the grounds with me? I am very interested to see the garden of roses!”

“Oh!” Bernadetta said. “Well, I mean, yes…! Just, um, gimme a second.”

By the time she got up, Hubert had already left, stalking down the halls of the palace towards his study.

* * *

His study, which usually felt quiet and cozy, had taken on a rather melancholy hue. Hubert entered, shut the door behind himself, and sat in his chair, feeling altogether spent, quiet, and tired. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

How ridiculous of him to be jealous. How utterly presumptuous to assume that Bernadetta might ever feel the same. She didn’t understand what it meant to Hubert that she’d asked to join his fight, and she would never understand, because Hubert could not tell her. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, beating himself up for his selfishness, and the way envy settled in his guts, coiling around his stomach like a snake. 

In reality, it was only a few minutes until his door clicked open—the only person bold enough to simply allow themselves into his study was Edelgard, so he swiveled his chair to face her. He gestured to her chair, sat across from his, next to the fireplace. There would always be a place for Lady Edelgard with Hubert, and his study was no exception. Edelgard lit a lamp, first, and then sat in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“The staff says you’ve been in a foul mood since you returned,” she said. “You hardly ate. You were basically silent at dinner. Hubert, I am worried about you.” Edelgard reached out, across the gap between them, and put her hand on top of his. “I thought, with the contents of your letter, that things would be… different?”

Hubert’s lips pressed to a flat line. He had long since promised Edelgard that there would be no secrets between the two of them, but admitting his feelings was always a struggle. It took him realizing that not letting her in was hurting her for him to finally let that wall tumble down, but it was a matter of practicing. He sighed, struggling with the words.

“I have dealt with the problems I outlined in my letter,” he said. “I do not think it would be appropriate to have such feelings for Bernadetta. In addition, she has feelings for someone else.”

Edelgard patted his hand, and leaned back in her chair. “Why do you think it would be inappropriate?”

“You, out of anyone, should know who I am and what I do. My life is led in your service. I do things that would make any person squeamish, and I do them regularly. I do them  _ eagerly,  _ because I am devoted to you, and your cause.” He paused. “A man like that would not make for a good husband.”

“Hubert.” Edelgard’s voice took on a stern edge. “That is not everything there is to you, and you know it.”

Hubert looked at her, frowning. “What I do makes up the majority of my life. And there is the fact that I put my life in danger, constantly. I would not be able to forgive myself if I died and left a partner behind to pick up the pieces. It is better for everyone that I remain alone.”

“That isn’t true, either.” Edelgard said. “It isn’t better for me, who is always wishing for your happiness. And it isn’t better for you, who is clearly hurting. You paint yourself as this machine built for only serving the Empire, but you are a human being, Hubert. You’re a person with wants and needs, just like anyone else.”

She took a breath, and fixed Hubert with a serious gaze. “I was so happy when I read your letter. It seemed you were finally getting in touch with that side of yourself, the side that thinks about settling down and building a life. We are this close to wiping out the slitherers, and you know as well as I do that when Arundel falls and there are no more immediate threats to my reign, we will both be bereft of work. It is hard to know what to do without it, which is why I’m grateful to have Byleth by my side. She reminds me of my humanity every day.” Edelgard took Hubert’s hand in both of hers, clutching him tightly. “I do what I can to remind you of that very same thing. But I fear that my reminders might not ever be enough.”

“My lady,” Hubert said, brows furrowed. He went to continue, but it seemed Edelgard had more to say, because she shook her head.

“Please, Hubert, allow me to finish,” she said.

Hubert nodded, and Edelgard squeezed his hand between hers.

“I have many years left on this earth, now, thanks to Linhardt’s research, and everyone’s efforts. I have the opportunity to build a life, to have a wife, to be happy, and I’m doing everything I can to grab that opportunity and seize it. I know there is not only one way of living life, but you have  _ real  _ feelings for Bernadetta. Real feelings that you shouldn’t just push down and ignore.” She gave him a pleading look. 

Hubert pursed his lips. She made a good case, but it was so hard for him to accept it. He thought of his feelings as only selfishness. His desires were unnecessary, at best. He let out a breath, hands curled in his lap.

“But is it selfish?”

“What do you mean, Hubert?”

Hubert looked at the floor. “To… to want her. It feels wrong of me, like I shouldn’t. I had always thought any marriage of mine would be one that would benefit the empire, never one of passion.”

Edelgard looked at him, brows furrowed. “That is an awfully painful way to live. We live in a new world, Hubert. I would not order you to marry anyone, ever. It is your decision to make, because it’s your life, and you have a right to that. To say that your feelings are wrong, or selfish… it is simply untrue. I think you’ll find that the people who love you want you to be happy, and will accept those feelings. Now—when you say that you dealt with the problem…”

Shame welled up inside of Hubert, rolling in his stomach, making his face feel hot. “I… I nearly kissed her,” he admitted. “We were in her father’s room, and she had just simply destroyed the place, and we were standing very close and I… I couldn’t… stop myself. But I should have. After that happened, I packed my things, and I left, though she had asked me to stay.”

Edelgard nodded, listening intently.

“She had also asked me, a few days prior, if she could join me in my fight against those who slither in the dark, and I  _ wanted  _ her to. I wanted her to put her life in danger, her future in jeopardy… out of a desire to have her by my side. I told her I would think about it, but… I shouldn’t have even allowed it to cross my mind. I should have protected her from it.”

“Hubert.” Edelgard looked at him, a serious glint in her eye. “You tried for many years to protect me from things you perceived as beneath my notice, or too difficult for me to handle. Are you trying to do the same thing with Bernadetta?”

Hubert pursed his lips. “Perhaps.”

“And when you did that to me, how did it make me feel?”

“It hurt your feelings, my lady.” Hubert sighed.

“It did. You didn’t even give me the chance to decide if I  _ could  _ handle them.” Edelgard let Hubert go, and steepled her fingers in front of herself. “Don’t you think Bernadetta would like the choice?”

Edelgard always did understand the emotional side of things better than Hubert did. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Bernadetta had control taken away from her for so much of her life; and here Hubert was, attempting to do the same thing. He thought he respected Bernadetta, and he did, but hiding her from how he felt was the opposite of respect.

The truly respectful thing to do—the thing he did not wish to do, the thing that made him afraid—would be to find Bernadetta, apologize, and tell her everything he was thinking. 

He looked at Edelgard, deep in thought. Vulnerability had never come easily to him. He opened his mouth, paused, and then opened it once more. “What do you think I should do?”

“In the end, Hubert, it is your decision. You can choose to let her in, or you can choose to keep her out. However, I think your friendship with her is far more important than protecting her from your feelings. I know for a fact she would be able to handle them, even if she didn’t reciprocate.”

“She doesn’t,” Hubert said. “I dare not dream that far, your majesty.”

“Listen to yourself! You are so infuriating sometimes. You know that you are a catch, correct? And Bernadetta…” She trailed off. Edelgard bounced her leg, which Hubert knew meant she was holding her tongue. Hubert narrowed his eyes.

“Are you aware of something that I’m not?”

Edelgard shook her head. “Speak with Bernadetta! I am not to be a conduit or messenger.” She stood from her chair, looking embarrassed. “I believe she is out in the garden, if you would like to speak to her right away. And Hubert…”

Edelgard stepped closer to him, putting her firm hand on his shoulder. “Good luck. I wish nothing but the best for you both.”

Hubert smiled at that, and put his hand over hers. “It is appreciated. Thank you, Edelgard.”

Edelgard gave him a warm smile, and exited his study, probably off to catch up with their friends some more. Hubert looked up at the ceiling of his study, and stared at the way the light of the lamp danced across it.

There was much to process, but not much time. Edelgard had reassured him that his own wants were not selfish, and that acting on them was not bad, and Hubert  _ wanted,  _ more than anything, to finally tell Bernadetta the truth.

It was now or never. If he waited much longer, Bernadetta might not ever forgive him. Hubert had faced down many horrifying things in his life, but nothing scared him more in this moment than the idea that their friendship might be utterly destroyed, and by his hand alone. Reciprocate or not—the best thing to do would be to be honest, for once.

Edelgard was right. Their bonds with each other meant everything, their friendship allowed all of the Black Eagles to thrive. He would do everything in his power to protect those bonds. Hubert stood, putting his hand over his flower pin for the strength and encouragement that it provided.

With that, Hubert strode to the garden, in search of Bernadetta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the next chapter, finally edited and uploaded the day before my birthday!!! wow i hope yall liked my rarepairs in the background here. if you havent considered crimson flowers manuela/shamir: please do. thanks. ALL THE COMMENTS ARE FEEDING ME thank yall so much. its been a terribly busy week for me so i havent had time to respond but rest assured they warm my heart as always. hope yall enjoyed! next chapter SHOULD be the last, i am still considering upping the rating to explicit... if i were to write nsfw content of these two would yall prefer it just be in the chapter or in a separate, skippable chapter? no promises but i am thinking abt it. 
> 
> thanks as always for reading!! love and appreciate yall sm!!


	7. by your side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert seeks Bernadetta. They both try honesty.

There was a rarely seen hurriedness in the way Hubert walked to the garden. Typically, if Hubert was running, that meant something terribly wrong had happened. There were several members of the Imperial Palace staff who gave him concerned looks as he strode past them, but his mind was set on one thing, and one thing alone—seeking Bernadetta in the garden.

He’d forgotten his cloak entirely, left it abandoned in his study, though he knew a chill had long since settled in Enbarr. The more important matter was his talk with Bernadetta, and he knew the longer he waited, the more nervous he’d be. He left his sleeves rolled up, barely minding the way the cold air moved across his skin. He was grateful that his hair had at least dried fully, at this point, though he was aware that it stuck up in points. It hardly mattered how he looked—he had no hopes of reciprocation; just a desire to be honest and tell Bernadetta exactly what she meant to him. If he could somehow save their friendship from his callousness, he would do it even looking like an utter fool.

The palace gardens had always been something like a maze. Hubert, of course, knew every inch of the place by heart, so he would be able to quickly traverse through it, but it was a matter of finding Petra and Bernadetta.

As he approached, he heard voices. Bernadetta and Petra were chit chatting about something, and Hubert all but broke into a run. He did not want to overhear anything he wasn’t meant to—when it came to friends, Hubert didn’t do things like snoop in their private business. If he were meant to know what they were saying, they would say it to him directly, and so he sped up his steps.

“I know, it just seems like we—”

Hubert, doing his best not to hear much more than that, burst into the scene. Petra was seated next to Bernadetta, leaning back in her garden chair under the gilded gazebo. Bernadetta had her hands gathered in front of herself on the table, and when Hubert arrived, she nearly jumped out of her seat.

“H-Hubert!” Bernadetta said, gaping at him. 

“My apologies,” Hubert said. He was breathless from running all the way over, certain there was color in his face, though not just from the run. His hair was windswept, and he looked unkempt. He put one hand on his chest, smoothing out the fabric of his shirt, and his index finger idly touched his flower pin. “I—I… I did not mean to interrupt.”

Petra held her hands up, giving him an easy smile. Petra was always very understanding and sweet, and Hubert could not be more appreciative. “It is no trouble! I’m assuming you’ll be wanting to talk to Bernadetta?”

Hubert nodded. “Yes. If—if she wants to. Just for a moment.”

Petra looked at Bernadetta, a single eyebrow raised. Bernadetta fidgeted in her chair.

“Um. It’s okay, Petra… I know you were about to go back in, anyway.” Bernadetta sighed, and bit her lip.

Petra nodded, seemingly satisfied with this. “Yes! There’s much to discuss with Dorothea, actually, so I should be taking my leave.” Petra stood, and gave Bernadetta a pat on the back. “I’ll see you!”

“Bye, Petra…”

“Have a good evening,” Hubert said. He noted to himself that he should get Petra a very nice thank you gift, both for taking care of Bernadetta and for being so very understanding.

Petra walked back to the palace, and Hubert stood, looking at Bernadetta. Bernadetta looked exquisite, tonight. He had not been able to take in the details of her dress before, and now that he could, he began noticing each detail. She had told him that she was working on something for herself to wear to the dinner, and knowing that she had hand sewn each detail herself made it all the more special.

It was a gorgeous off the shoulder lilac gown, that showed off the exquisite curve of her collarbones. It had hand stitched tulle ruffles, and it was taken in perfectly at her waist, accentuating her figure. Hubert thought one would have to be blind not to notice. He had always known, it just took falling in love with her for it to be pushed to the forefront of his mind. He stood there for just a moment, unconsciously committing her to memory, before he realized he was meant to be speaking to her.

“May I sit?” He asked, gesturing at the chair. It was uncommon for him to be so nervous, and yet he felt it anyway.

Bernadetta bit her lip. “...Yeah.”

Hubert sat, noting her more quiet attitude. There was a somberness to her, a somberness that was entirely his fault. Petra must have been spending the night trying to cheer her up—the thank you gift he’d been planning in his mind grew even larger. He frowned, and looked at her, not trying to hide how he felt anymore.

“I have much to apologize for,” he said.

“You think?” Bernadetta said, but then grimaced. “I—sorry. That was mean. I just… you really hurt my feelings, you know. You promised me you would stay, and then you just walked out. It was really awful.”

“I know,” Hubert said. He wrung his hands in his lap. If this sort of anxiety was the type that Bernadetta felt all the time, he had simply no clue how she managed. If he felt this nervous every day, he might simply collapse. He let out a breath, steadying himself. “I’m sorry for not staying when you’d asked. I left for what are admittedly selfish reasons.”

“I’m listening,” Bernadetta said. She crossed her arms in front of herself. At least she gave him that much. He would not ask for much more.

“I…” He paused, summoning the words. “This is… difficult… for me. I do not mean to stall on something that is so important to the both of us, but it is by that very nature that it is taking me a while to do right.”

Bernadetta softened at that. “You can take your time, Hubert. It’s… it’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” he said. “I talked to Edelgard about what I had been doing. My actions were an ill conceived way to protect you from something I thought you would not be able to handle.” He shook his head. “I thought that I was in the right, trying to protect you, but I realized that it was nothing more than me disrespecting your own agency. I need you to know that I acknowledge that you can make your own decisions, and that you do not need me shielding you from anything.”

Bernadetta nodded. “That’s, um… that’s sweet of you. I… I understand the urge, but I’m glad you get that I have a right to my own decisions. I really am a lot stronger now, Hubert, it’s not like when I was at school and everything made me pass out. So, if this is like, slitherer stuff, I promise, I won’t wilt away. Bernie’s pretty strong, you know!”

Hubert nodded, tracing the seam of his gloves. If it were as simple as  _ Slitherer stuff,  _ as Bernadetta called it, this wouldn’t be half as difficult. He shook his head, steeling himself for what was to come next.

“I know that you won’t. Bernadetta, if anyone is aware of exactly how strong you are, it is me. I’ve seen your growth, the way you have blossomed so fully, away from your father’s influence, under the careful guidance of Byleth and with the Black Eagles by your side. I find myself in awe of it, and of you.” He frowned. “I have also found that I am the one Black Eagle left stagnating.”

“What do you mean?” Bernadetta asked.

“Many of us are thriving, as Lady Edelgard said. Finding new avenues to be ourselves, travelling the world as you and Petra have, or even finding love, as our Professor and Lady Edelgard have. However, I have remained much the same. Diving into work, serving her majesty, keeping to myself. It is not that I am incapable of change, it is that I am keeping myself from it. I’m afraid of it.” He sighed. “Afraid that what I want is selfish, or bad, or wrong. Like a stagnant chess player, unwilling to adapt to new strategy, I continue to play the same moves. Where I once protected Lady Edelgard from my feelings, I have done the very same thing to you.”

Bernadetta looked at him, grey eyes wide and searching. 

“Her Majesty talked some sense into me. When I kept her out, I hurt her feelings, terribly. I cannot be the one to decide whether or not you can handle something or not. If I respect you, and I  _ do,  _ I should simply tell you what it is that I am feeling, and let you decide what you wish to do with that information.”

“Okay,” Bernadetta said. “Um… what’s going on, then?”

Hubert could not help the way his heart thumped in his chest. “Over the past few months or so, I have found myself wanting to change. It was something you said that made me fully realize exactly what it was that I wanted. When you asked to join the private wars of House Vestra… Bernadetta, I could not express what that meant to me.” He was certain his face had taken on a rosy hue. “We laid in bed together, side by side, and I knew, deep down, that what I was feeling for you was not simply admiration. It was love, Bernadetta.”

Bernadetta’s lips parted. “Oh,” she said.

“Yes,” Hubert said. “I have come to covet you in my heart, Bernadetta. I want you by my side terribly. I cannot count the number of times that I have wished to kiss you.” He shook his head. “I realize now that by not being open with you, I have hurt our friendship. I tried to push you away in order to protect you, but you can make your own decisions.”

Hubert reached across the circular table, to put his right hand over Bernadetta’s left, which was resting against the surface of the table. Their chairs were facing each other, their knees nearly touching.

“Of course, I do wish that you reciprocated my feelings, however the more important thing to me is that you know the truth of why I tried to push you away. You are under no obligation to forgive me, either. I know that you have feelings for another, but I—”

Hubert could not finish his last sentence, because Bernadetta took his lapels in her hands, and pulled him forward to kiss him.

The first kiss was chaste, just a meeting of their lips somewhere in the space between them. It was electric. Bernadetta looked at him, with a type of intensity that he had not ever seen in her before. 

“You love me?” She said.

“I love you,” he said, entirely starstruck.

“And if I ask you to stay…”

“It will be the last time you ever have to ask,” Hubert said.

Bernadetta kissed him once more. This was, perhaps, a little more like how he had fantasized this. He had time now to process this feeling, and oh, how his heart soared. Bernadetta’s lips were soft against his own. She clung to him like a drifter to flotsam, hands seeking purchase in his shirt. Hubert’s own hands went to her lower back, still careful with the fabric of her dress that she had worked so terribly hard on. That magnetic pull that Hubert felt every time he was near her finally brought him to the inevitable conclusion. It did not feel like enough to say they fit perfectly together, more like in their imperfections there was a certain sort of chemistry, something intoxicating and heady. They kissed until they were both breathless, though Hubert wished terribly to hear every little thing that Bernadetta was thinking, and then they kissed some more, simply because they could. After an age of kissing, once Bernadetta was seated nearly fully on his lap, she finally pulled away, only a few scant inches between their faces.

“Hubert,” she said, breathlessly. “I love you.”

Hubert blinked, and smiled at her, in what he knew must be a terribly silly looking smile. He found he did not care. Bernadetta loved him—what did it matter how he looked when he smiled at her? She  _ loved  _ him.

“And I, you, Bernadetta.”

“I’ve wanted to do that forever!” Bernadetta exclaimed. It was as though the dam had been broken, and Bernadetta could not help but be exuberant. “Ever since I gave you that pin… maybe even a little bit before that! I—I’ve been in love with you this whole time, and I kept  _ trying  _ to tell you, but I thought I just wasn’t saying it clearly enough and, oh—”

Hubert shook his head. “That wasn’t it in the slightest. I was, frankly, oblivious to your feelings.”

“But it’s not your fault, either! You were just trying to protect me… Oh, but I’m so glad you realized it.” She let out a sigh of relief. “I hate being upset with you  _ so  _ much. But I need you to know—I never ever could have ended our friendship, even if that did hurt my feelings a lot.”

“I’m so sorry,” Hubert said. “My apologies might never be enough to soothe the hurt I caused, but know that I will spend the rest of my life making up for it.”

Bernadetta shook her head, and pulled him into a hug. She settled herself against the crook of his neck, hands bunching in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to make up for it. Apology accepted. I’d rather that my feelings get hurt by you being  _ too  _ respectful rather than not respectful enough.”

Hubert had to chuckle at that. He rubbed her back in soothing motions, tracing along her spine to the nape of her neck. He felt the way she shivered under his touch, although it was probably the chill of the night more than any actions Hubert was taking.

Bernadetta pulled away, and looked up at him, eyes searching his. She cupped his face, gently, thumb idly stroking over his cheek. “Thank you for telling me. I know how difficult it is to say how you’re feeling. I know you said you stagnated, but… I think this is a good step to changing.”

“You don’t have to be proud of me,” Hubert said. It was always hard for him to have attention turned to himself.

“But I am,” she said. “And… I meant it, when I said I wanted to join your private wars. I want to be your partner, in all things.”

Hubert reached up to the hand that Bernadetta was using to cup his face, and turned so that he might kiss her palm. “My Bernadetta,” he murmured against her skin. “For as long as you’ll have me, I will remain by your side.” He kissed her palm once more, a silent promise, then down to her wrist, where he could feel the way her pulse fluttered against his lips.

Bernadetta leaned in for another kiss. This was unhurried, almost lazy in the way the two of them took their time with each other. Hubert found that he couldn’t even spare a thought for who might see them like this.  _ Let everyone see, _ he thought. He did not want to hide how he felt for even a second longer from anyone. He wanted everyone to know that Bernadetta was his, and furthermore, he was Bernadetta’s, for as long as she wanted him. He had long thought that he only had one life to devote—but life was always full of surprises.

He found he did not mind the surprise that was Bernadetta von Varley.

When the cold of the night settled goosebumps along Bernadetta’s skin, Hubert stood, and held Bernadetta in his arms, carrying her like a princess. Bernadetta squeaked, and looked up at him. “Are we, um…?”

“I’m taking you to bed,” he said. It felt a near mirror to their conversation on the night before Fhirdiad. “It is rather chilly. I would hate for you to catch cold.”

He noted the dusting of rose across Bernadetta’s cheek, as she clung to him. “Your bed?”

He nodded. “I don’t think I could spend a night apart from you, now. Even at your manor, without you by my side, I slept terribly. I could really use a long, restful sleep.”

“Ah, oh…!” Bernadetta nodded, looking shy. “Yeah, I, um… I felt the same way! Having you nearby was really helpful. You know, you’re really snuggly when you sleep?”

Hubert chuckled. “I suppose I am like a moth to flame. Seems you have that sort of effect on me, Bernadetta.”

“Oh…” Bernadetta flushed at that. “Me too! I always am thinking about… holding your hand, or kissing you.”

“Are you now?” Hubert could not resist teasing her. 

“Don’t act like it’s a surprise!” Bernadetta pouted. “I think… Hubert, I think that you think you’re… I don’t know… undesirable, or something, but you’re far from it.”

It was now Hubert’s turn to blush. He continued towards the palace, though his steps paused for just a moment. He didn’t know what to say in response.

“I—I mean it! You’re… really handsome, and nice, and… and a really good kisser, so…” 

Hubert felt awfully shy. “If anyone should be praised for their skills, Bernadetta, it should be you.”

“Oh! Ah, thank you…!” She shook her head, seemingly pulling herself back to the topic at hand. “Do you, um… have a hard time accepting compliments?”

“I suppose,” Hubert said. “I don’t receive many of them.”

“I can change that,” she said, softly. “I want to. I’ve been working hard on accepting them myself so… we could work on it together! Since we’re… ah…”

There inlaid the crux of the matter: what  _ were  _ they, indeed. Hubert swallowed, stepping into the halls of the palace. Hubert held his breath, thinking of all the things he wanted to be—though they’d only just started their relationship, he had imagined marrying her plenty of times already. Hubert hummed, looking at her with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dating?” He offered.

“Yeah...” she said. “I think the word boyfriend feels kind of…” She tilted her head to the side, as if considering it.

“Perhaps it doesn’t suit us,” he said. “Shall I simply refer to you as my Bernadetta?”

Bernadetta’s cheeks turned red, and the hand against his chest curled, tugging the fabric there. “Oh,” she said. “I… I like that. My Hubert.”

Hubert let out a little chuckle. He was grateful the rest of the Black Eagles were dispersed throughout the palace, so that he could have this time alone with Bernadetta. “I’m fond of it myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends. it's your friend, the fanfic artist formerly known as spaceysquid but now is calciferian. i had to change my urls everywhere bc of some STUFF but needless to say it's still me!! if you want to read some smut, go ahead and head to the next chapter, but know that it's entirely skippable if that isn't your cup of tea.
> 
> after this double update is the epilogue. the second i'm done editing it, i'll publish it! it's already written so... i'll get sappy on that update about how much all of yall mean to me. thanks for reading as always!!


	8. feeling wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert and Bernadetta spend some quality time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as noted at the end of the last chapter but in case you didn't read my warning: this is the smut chapter!! you can skip it if that isn't your scene!

The walk back to Hubert’s room was steady and easy, and Hubert felt inside himself a sort of lightness that he had not ever felt before. He opened the door to his room, and set Bernadetta down gently, so that she could decide where to go. Hubert felt nervous, now—taking her to his bedroom after they had only first kissed felt terribly forward, now. Though if she wanted to take this further, he didn’t imagine he would be opposed. He stood there, adjusting his collar, and looked to Bernadetta.

Bernadetta turned to him, and held her hands in front of himself, fiddling with one of the ruffles of her dress. “I… I don’t want to let you down! I’m… inexperienced here, too.”

Hubert nodded. “We are in the same boat, I’m afraid. I have no expectations of anything physical; I… I simply wanted to rest with you.” He gives her a soft smile, hoping to reassure her.

“That sounds good to me,” Bernadetta said, shyly. “But… well, I don’t think I can sleep in my dress.” She looked at him, and Hubert found he could not read the look in her eyes. 

Hubert swallowed the lump in his throat. “Allow me,” he said, hands at Bernadetta’s shoulders. He was certain he had sleep shirts he could let her borrow, and it seemed only gentlemanly to help her undress. They were together, now, so touching her in this manner was not inappropriate, was it?

“Thank you,” Bernadetta said, softly. 

His hands trailed down the bare skin of her upper back, to the fastenings that held together her dress, and he gently and carefully began undoing them. Bernadetta held the front of her dress to herself, as Hubert slowly but surely exposed more of her back.

The urge to touch her returned, in full force. He was grateful for the barrier that his gloves made against her skin, and he did not dare press his lips to her bare shoulders, which were steadily growing pink. When they were all done, he turned to his dresser, and pulled out a suitable sleeping gown for Bernadetta, though it would be far too large for her.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her and averting his eyes to the ground. Bernadetta was holding her dress to her chest, covering everything important, but she held out her hand to accept the garment.

“Thank you,” she said, again, though her voice shook.

Hubert went to turn around, so as to not embarrass Bernadetta further, but when he did, Bernadetta held out her hand to stop him.

“You… you don’t have to. I’m not…” She bit her lip. “I’m not afraid of you seeing.”

Hubert let out a shaky breath. “It… it is…” He said, an attempt to protest, to say that it was wrong for him to look like this, when he knew he wanted her, but Bernadetta interrupted him.

“I like it when you want me,” Bernadetta said, voice as sure as Hubert had ever heard it. “I’ve wanted you for so long. Please?”

Hubert took in a deep breath.  _ I like it when you want me.  _ He bit his lip, and turned, so that he could see her fully. She had dropped her elegant dress to the ground, seemingly unworried about whether or not it got wrinkled. She was in her smallclothes, though her breasts were free, and she held the garment loosely.

“Are you going to change?” She asked. Hubert, seemingly dumbstruck by the moment, nodded mutely. He had his own nightclothes, but started by divesting himself of his shirt, unbuttoning it so that Bernadetta might watch. She kept her eyes on his movements, grey eyes sharp and concentrated. Hubert felt laid bare under her gaze, and found that he hardly minded it. 

His pants were next. He stepped out of them, tossing them to the side, mirroring Bernadetta’s actions. He hardly cared where his pants or shirt ended up, when Bernadetta was before him, nearly naked. He stepped forward, and Bernadetta looked up at him with eyes that seemed wide with what Hubert now knew was desire.

“Your gloves,” she said, when Hubert reached out to put one hand on her hip.

“Ah. Of course,” he said. His gloves, unintentionally saved for last, were tossed to his dresser, where they were typically carefully placed. His hand returned to her hips, bare skin to bare skin. He exhaled, thumb moving in idle patterns against her soft skin.

“...I do want you,” he said, quietly. “I am not certain where to begin.”

Bernadetta nodded. “Why don’t we lie down, and take it from there?”

That seemed doable. Hubert held her, and the two fell back onto his bed, tucking themselves under Hubert’s warm down covers. Bernadetta, having seemingly forgotten about the sleep garment, cuddled herself close to Hubert’s chest. She wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back.

“When… when we were… in the same bed,” Bernadetta said, voice stopping and starting again, “I… I wanted to kiss you.”

“I did, as well,” Hubert said. He was keenly aware of the way Bernadetta’s body felt tucked against his own. He ran his fingers through her hair, to the nape of her neck, down to her lower back. He rested his hands against her, relishing how it felt to hold her so tightly, knowing that she was his. He so rarely felt a possessiveness like this, nor a need to show off, but he felt it now, that desire for all in Fódlan to know that he and Bernadetta were each others beloved. “We could… we could kiss now, if you liked.”

“I would,” Bernadetta said. She looked up at him, from his chest, eyes so pleading that Hubert could not help but ache for her. He leaned closer, kissed her forehead, first. 

“You will tell me if I do something that is not to your liking, correct?”

“Of course,” Bernadetta said. “But I’ve wanted this for a long time. I’m ready, if you are.”

Hubert took in a deep breath. He had only wished to share a bed with her, to rest quietly in each others arms, but he felt it too. The pull of desire that seemed to tug at his chest as if held by strings. He kissed down her face, to her cheeks, and then finally, he kissed her lips.

This was soft and seeking. They both felt how new all of this was, and through their inexperience, there was a certain level of shyness. Bernadetta pressed herself to Hubert’s chest, so that they were skin to skin, and Hubert could feel the way her breasts felt pressed against his own flat chest. He nearly sighed into the kiss, content, but Bernadetta tilted her head to deepen it, and he found that instead a hungry sound escaped him. When her tongue darted out to taste his bottom lip, Hubert’s hand at her hip squeezed. Their tongues met, kiss growing deeper measure by measure, and Hubert cherished each sound of pleasure that Bernadetta made. 

He kissed along her jaw, once they had enough, to the nape of her neck. He kissed the soft skin there, down to where her neck met her shoulder. His teeth grazed her skin, and Bernadetta seemed to delight in that. 

“Please,” she gasped out, hips arching forward. 

“I’ll leave marks,” Hubert said. It was an admission more than a warning, a statement of fact. “People might question, Bernadetta.”

“I want you to,” Bernadetta whined. “I want—I want the questions.”

That permission was enough. Hubert gave into the base part of himself that wanted everyone to know Bernadetta was his, biting down at her skin, hard enough to leave a mark. His tongue ran over it, soothing it, and Bernadetta practically mewled. Hubert made that hungry sound once more, like a growl, and moved so that he was on top of Bernadetta, as she laid down beneath him. She squeaked, looking up at him. 

She licked her lips, pupils blown wide, eyes half lidded as she drank in his appearance. Hubert committed every inch of her to memory, though he knew he could not ever forget this, not as long as he lived.

“You’re exquisite,” he said. He looked at the blooming bruise on her neck, and trailed his hands down her chest, to her breasts. 

“P-please,” Bernadetta said. “I—I like hearing stuff like that from you.”

Hubert nodded. “I cannot get enough of saying it,” he said, voice clear and honest. He kissed his way down her neck to her chest, though he left another mark on her neck, unable to resist it. He quite enjoyed the way Bernadetta’s hips arched off the bed, legs spread wide to accept how Hubert settled between them. Though they both lacked experience, it almost seemed as though she was made for this sort of thing, her body was so finely tuned to sex. “You are so lovely. My Bernadetta… I could barely tear my eyes away from you, you know. When we met in the garden, I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

“I-I know,” she said, panting. “You—you stood there for so long, I thought… maybe you were… m-mad…”

“Hardly.” He palmed her breast, hovering over her nipple, breath hot against her skin. “I was worried I might never see you again. I was committing you to memory.”

Bernadetta let out a pained sound, digging her nails into Hubert’s arm. “That—that…”

Hubert nodded. He sucked at her, teeth grazing ever so slightly, and Bernadetta let out a raspy moan. “Yes,” she breathed, hips arching into him again. 

Hubert could feel himself growing harder as the seconds passed. He knew she’d be able to feel it by now, with the way she kept rucking her hips against him. He was determined, however, to treat Bernadetta well before he attempted  _ anything  _ for himself. If he had his way, tonight would be entirely about her pleasure before his.

He continued his slow steady march downwards, towards her sex, leaving trails of searing kisses across her soft skin. He noted each scar, marks of battles hard fought and won, victories that they shared—marks he remembered. He traced his fingers over them, until finally he was positioned at her thighs, which were spread wide for him. 

Bernadetta looked down at him, worrying her lip between her teeth. Hubert kissed her thighs, feeling how strong they were; the ripple of muscle beneath the soft skin, and Hubert once again found himself in awe of each way that she’d grown.

“My Bernadetta,” he murmured against her skin. “My beloved.”

“Oh,” Bernadetta moaned, and she gripped the sheets, as if seeking purchase. “Hubert—Hubert, please, I might die if you don’t touch me.”

Hubert chuckled, kissing ever so slowly against her inner thighs. “Would you, truly?”

“I might!” She whined.

“Then you are lucky I’m not in the mood to tease,” he said. He tugged at the hem of her smallclothes, releasing her from them. The air was heady with her sex, and Hubert could only imagine how he looked, how his dark eyes drank in her appearance. She must have been too turned on to be ashamed, because she looked at him expectantly, rather than with any apprehension. Hubert, finding no recourse, dove in. His tongue dipped to her entrance first, to taste her, then up, up, up, to find her clit. With the flat of his tongue, he lapped against her, and found that her taste was very much to his liking.

“Oh, fuck,” Bernadetta said, squirming. He could feel the way her thighs squeezed against his ears, hands moving to tangle in his hair. It wouldn’t do to forget how very strong she was. He hummed against her clit, licking her almost experimentally, figuring out the pace that she liked. It was a matter of discovering her preferences. He noted each sigh, each sharp intake of breath, which movements made her moan and which ones made her shake. When he felt in danger of being squeezed to death by her thighs, he used his hands to hold them spread, and Bernadetta seemed to like that very much.

With each careful stroke of his tongue, Bernadetta seemed to get closer and closer to her orgasm. Hubert could feel it coming in the way she shook, how her hands tugged at his hair, how she arched into him, riding his tongue. Bernadetta could not stop talking, either, begging for release with each passing second. Hubert could not help the desire coiling hot in his belly; nor how he felt each time she breathlessly moaned his name. He did not even care if the whole palace heard her crying out for him. He continued his careful movements, getting Bernadetta closer and closer, until finally, finally, with a wordless cry, she arched off of the bed and came.

Hubert let her ride his tongue, carefully holding her through the aftershocks, lapping at her until she was entirely spent. She sagged against the bed, breaths coming in heavily. He pulled away, wiping his face off with his hand, and he hardly cared for how dirty it might have seemed. Bernadetta sat up, cupped his face in her hands, and pulled him in for one more kiss.

He was certain she could taste herself on her tongue, but that seemed to be egging her on more than anything. She kissed him with such passion, Hubert himself felt breathless. Her hands, once idle against the sheets, now moved with clear intent, down his chest to his smallclothes.

He broke the kiss. “Bernadetta,” he said, gently. “Please—you don’t need to.”

“I want to,” she said. “I want you… would you let me?”

Hubert found he could not object when she looked at him like that. He nodded, and Bernadetta slipped her fingers under the hem of his covering, to his cock. Her fingers brushed against it, and Hubert felt how it twitched under her attention.

He let out a belaboured breath. “How—how shall you like me,” he said, swallowing hard.

“I think, um… if you lie down, so—so I can control the pace? I really, um… want you inside me.” Bernadetta looked at him, pleadingly. He nodded, moving so that he was lying down on the bed, and now Bernadetta was set between his legs.

“Can I… touch it a bit, first? Get a feel for it?” She looked terribly shy. 

“Of course,” he said. “Anything you might need.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Okay…” She pulled his smallclothes off, finally revealing the entirety of him. Hubert was nervous, but Bernadetta looked at him with something approaching wonder. 

She examined him carefully, and finally, her hand shifted up and down his cock. Her movements were slow, unsure, just testing the waters. Hubert held his hand over his mouth to bite back the noise he was certain he would make. 

Her eyes flit up to meet his, heady desire apparent. She licked her lips, and lowered her head, tongue darting out to taste the smear of precum that had beaded at the tip of his cock. Hubert let out a little gasp at the contact, and Bernadetta, enjoying the way he responded, licked her lips, and ran her tongue all the way up his cock. 

“I’m not sure I’ll be good at this,” she murmured, lips against him.

“I think you’re perfect,” Hubert said, falteringly, so lost he was in his desire for Bernadetta.

“You don’t have to just be nice,” she said. She kissed the tip of his cock, mouth finally opening to envelop him fully. Her tongue circled around the head of his dick, sucking at him in earnest, now.

Hubert had not thought Bernadetta would attempt such a thing tonight, but she seemed determined to try it. He balled his fists into covers in the sheets, seeing white as she continued sucking him, head bobbing against his cock. She went down as far as she could, then pulled up again. Hubert felt as though he might melt into the bed. Her inexperience meant nothing; just this would be enough to send him over the edge. She sucked at him, humming as she continued her careful work. Hubert knew that he would not last if she continued in this manner, and so he put his hand on her shoulder, holding her steady. She released him, with a string of saliva leading from her lips to his cock, and she looked up at him, panting.

“Am I doing okay?” She said, searching his face. She was panting hard, looking at him with hunger in her eyes.

“Exceedingly so,” he said. “I—It might be prudent to… I do not wish to come before I’ve had a chance to be inside you, as you wished.”

At that, Bernadetta turned bright red. She nodded, and then moved, releasing his cock to straddle his hips.

“Ready?” She asked, reaching down to position him before her entrance. 

“I am,” He said. “Are you? You can stop at any moment, you know.”

Bernadetta nodded. “I know. Please, don’t worry,” she said. “I want this so bad, Hubert.”

Hubert sucked in air through his teeth, as Bernadetta moved a little lower. Only the tip of his cock rested against her entrance, and yet it was already so overwhelming. She sunk lower, hips moving so achingly slow he thought he might never take in another breath. It took her some time, but finally, she was pressed flush against him. She braced her hands against his chest, taking in deep, careful breaths.

“Are you…” Hubert said, slowly. He could feel how she squeezed around him, holding herself steady.

“I’m good,” Bernadetta said, nodding. “I’m—I’m good! You’re really—really big.” She gasped, grinding her hips into him as she adjusted on top of him. “Fuck, Hubert.”

“Take it slowly,” he said, reassuring and steady.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, meeting his eyes. She moved, then, finally, just an inch, but Hubert could feel it so keenly. He kept one hand on her thigh, the other at her navel, holding her steady. Bernadetta, unsurprisingly, was very, very tight.

“Fuck,” he muttered, when Bernadetta moved up and down. She was setting her pace, finally, and Hubert held himself back from pushing her any further, though he wished very much to thrust up into her. He could imagine the many ways he wanted to fuck her, pinning her against the bed or against the wall, or even on the floor if she wanted him there, making her come over and over and over. If she wanted it, he would give it to her; so beholden he was to ensuring Bernadetta was pleased. 

“Yes,” Bernadetta gasped, hips moving rhythmically as she pounded against him. Her pace increased rather quickly—it seemed she got used to his length very easily, and her hunger for him rapidly outpaced any sense of discomfort. For Hubert’s part, he could not get over how very tight she was, cunt squeezing every inch of him. She ground her hips against him, and Hubert, lost in the sensation, began meeting each downward slide. “Oh, fuck,  _ yes,  _ Hubert!”

“My Bernadetta,” he growled, gripping her hips so that he could fuck her harder. This caused a ragged moan to leave Bernadetta, as she threw her head back in pleasure. Hubert’s own orgasm was rapidly approaching, but he would not come without her. His thumb moved to her clit, moving in quick circles while he fucked her. 

“Hubert!” Bernadetta could not stop herself from crying out, desperation clear. Her nails dug into his chest, as the two moved in tandem. “I—I’m—I’m going to—!”

“Yes,” he said, as he ground against her clit, hips rucking against her. “Me too, Bernadetta, let’s—”

“Together,” she breathed out, and with that, her orgasm tore through her. The molten hot desire at Hubert’s core exploded, and he came with a raspy moan, helplessly spilling himself inside of her. Pleasure moved over him in waves, Bernadetta falling limply against his chest, breathing heavily. He pulled out of her, simply holding her in his arms as they came down together.

Bernadetta was the first to break the silence. “I love you,” she said, voice as languid as she was. 

“I love you too,” he responded in turn, kissing her forehead. 

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, content in the knowledge that they would always have each other.


	9. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

“C’mon, Hubert,” Bernadetta said, with a giggle. “They’re expecting us, you know!”

“They can wait five minutes longer,” Hubert said, with a hum, as he kissed the nape of Bernadetta’s neck. “Don’t you think?”

“I dunno,” Bernadetta said, giving him a cheeky grin. “If you think the brides would understand us being late to their reception…”

In her dress for Edelgard’s wedding, Bernadetta looked resplendent. Hubert had trouble keeping his hands off of her, and in the portrait the Black Eagles all had to sit for, he had been chastised several times for adjusting the way his hands rested upon her. Even a dirty look spared for the artist had not saved him from Edelgard’s ire for, in her words, disrespecting an artist’s integrity. Much to  _ Hubert’s _ ire, she was right. It was her wedding portrait, after all. He left his hand resting on Bernadetta’s lower back, where it was settled now.

“Were I not Edelgard’s best man, I would ravish you here, you know.” Hubert murmured against her skin. Bernadetta giggled, and hugged him tightly. 

Hubert trailed his finger across the floral pin she wore in her dress, the one that matched his own; their own daily announcement of the love they felt for each other. Their relationship was found out near immediately, as expected, and the courts were certainly ablaze with rumors, but they rolled off of Hubert like all idle gossip ever did.

“As much as I’d like that, and it would be a lot—I’m kind of excited about dancing with you. C’mon.” She tugged at his sleeve, pulling him towards the grand hall, where the reception was being held. There were twinkling lights everywhere, a variety of gorgeously set tables with centerpieces containing dozens and dozens of roses. It was lavish, but if anyone deserved a lavish wedding, it would be Edelgard and Byleth. Hubert, as Edelgard’s best man, sat to her right at the head table, where all the Black Eagles did, and Bernadetta, as his partner, sat to his side. The brides had yet to enter the room, so thankfully, none of them were actually late. Dorothea, who was sitting next to Bernadetta, leaned in with a knowing smile.

“You two are running late,” she said, with a little grin.

“Late? I believe we’re right on time, are we not?”

Bernadetta giggled. “Yeah! Right on time. Plus, I have this feeling Edelgard and Byleth might be late too.”

Dorothea snorted. “You don’t have to say that twice. They could hardly keep their hands off each other after they were announced as Emperor and wife.”

Hubert cleared his throat, and Dorothea waved her hand.

“Oh, come on, it’s true! Right, Ferdie?” She elbowed her partner.

“It’d be improper for me to comment, darling!” Ferdinand chuckled. 

“It would,” Hubert said, and Bernadetta squeezed his hand under the table. 

“I’m happy for them,” Bernadetta said. “Do you think we’ll see a slew of Black Eagle weddings after this…?” She hummed.

Dorothea raised an eyebrow. “Do you think?”

Hubert gave Dorothea a pointed look. She was one of the two people who were aware of the thing that Hubert had been keeping secret since the night he and Bernadetta got together. Hubert had gathered his savings, all the gold he could spare, and he had gone out to buy a wedding ring. Dating simply did not feel like enough, for them, and Hubert was intent on being her husband if she wished for the same thing. 

Dorothea gave him a knowing look in return—how she had managed to worm her way in on this secret, Hubert did not know, but it seemed she did her best to keep it. Her best, however, was a little lacking. She was simply so excited for Bernadetta, that she could not hold it as tightly as Hubert might like her to. Dorothea had even given him a long talk about the various things she would do if he managed to break her heart. It was about as scary as the one that Edelgard had given him. Hubert, however, had absolutely no intentions on breaking her heart, and in fact treasured her more than anything in the world. 

“Well, yeah!” Bernadetta said. “Manuela and Shamir got married first, but then Edie and Byleth followed and now… well, there has to be a betting pool on who’s going next, right?”

Linhardt leaned in, a little lower down the table. “There is. Bernadetta, I think you’ll find that your name is rather high on that betting list.”

The two of them turned bright red. Leave it to Linhardt to say things exactly as they were. They chuckled, appraising them.

“I believe it was  _ you  _ who placed the biggest bet on them, right, Lindy?” Dorothea said, with a hearty sip of her wine.

“I’m always willing to take a safe bet,” Linhardt said, with a shrug.

Hubert sipped at his own glass of wine, now desperate to change the subject. “Why don’t we leave our energy for the brides, hm?”

“Byleth bet on you too,” they said, not taking the hint. “But then, she also placed a rather big bet on Petra eloping with Mercedes, so who’s to say.”

Bernadetta seemed to consider that for a moment, humming to herself. “They’d make a cute couple, I think…”

“Oh, agreed!” Dorothea said. “Although it does make me a little jealous. Two women that beautiful, they’ll turn heads at every event they go to!”

They all seemed to nod in agreement at that. As if sensing the timing, Edelgard and Byleth exited, both looking exuberantly happy. They went out to the dance floor, for their first dance, and Hubert could not help the tears that came to his face. His partner, it seemed, could also not help it. She took one of her hand embroidered handkerchiefs and dabbed at her eyes, with a sniff.

“My Bernadetta,” Hubert said, fondly, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Are you alright?”

“It’s just so beautiful,” Bernadetta said. “Love triumphing over everything, you know? It’s the kind of thing that makes you cry.”

Hubert, who could only think of how he felt for Bernadetta—the ardency with which he adored her, how he had so thoroughly changed him from the man who abhorred affection and casual touch into the man he was now—understood her more than he could ever say.

“It is beautiful,” he said. “I hope these are happy tears.”

She nodded, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Really happy. I’m glad for them.”

“As am I.” He set his hand on her lower back, waiting for the brides to return to the table. Soon enough, Edelgard and Byleth were seated next to them, breathless and joyful. Edelgard beamed at him and Bernadetta, and reached over to pat Hubert’s back.

“About ready for the Best Man speech, Hubert?”

Hubert chuckled. “I suppose I am as ready as you are.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Edelgard said, grinning at him. 

Hubert was not nervous for this, no. A best man speech seemed utterly doable. He waxed poetic about the way Byleth and Edelgard orbited each other, how their love lasted the war, and how they might love each other forever, easily enough.

“Lady Edelgard once told me that Byleth reminds her of her own humanity each day. They ground each other, and it is through their love and mutual adoration that they are able to do what they have. Their is a love story that will be told throughout the ages, and I, for one, am excited to see what they can accomplish now as wives.”

Edelgard was now in tears. She stood and pulled Hubert into a hug, and Byleth followed suit. Hubert could not help the chuckle that escaped him, as he hugged the both of them tightly. 

“Congratulations. I’m so happy for you two,” he said, just to the two of them.

“We love you,” Edelgard said, clinging to him. Byleth nodded, giving him a smile, returning the sentiment in her own way.

“I should hope so,” Hubert said, with a smile.

The rest of the wedding continued much like this—speeches, food, champagne, all joy and lightness. It was hard to not get carried away with the spirit of it. Finally, after the cake, Hubert and Bernadetta exited to the dance floor, to dance with each other.

Hubert put his arms around her waist, and Bernadetta rested hers on his shoulders, and they swayed together on the floor. Though they were surrounded by people, Hubert felt almost as though they were the only ones there. That was the effect that Bernadetta’s love had on him, so helpless was he in her wake. Bernadetta looked at him, and bit her lip.

“So,” she said, open-endedly.

“So?” He questioned. 

“The whole… marriage pool thing…”

Hubert shook his head. “It is idle silliness, Bernadetta, I would not worry about it.”

“No, no, I know I just—I don’t want you to feel like there’s… pressure? We’ve been good, you know, just being… what we are, and I don’t want you to think like, ‘oh I  _ haaave  _ to marry little Bernie,’ like, because I’m—I’m… you know…”

Hubert furrowed his brows together. “I’m afraid I do not know, Bernadetta.” He had an inkling, but he would not jump to conclusions with her any longer.

Bernadetta frowned. “...My dad always said I was… you know…”

Hubert shook his head. “Do not think for even a moment that your father’s opinion on what you are or are not factors in to my decision to marry you.”

Bernadetta let out a little sigh. “Right. Sorry, it’s… I keep thinking I should be over it by now.” She shakes her head.

“It is a recent wound, Bernadetta. If the idea of marriage scares you, however, I would not want to pressure you, either.” He gave her a serious look.

“It doesn’t! I mean… it  _ does,  _ but, it also…” She frowned. “We still have a ways to go with my training, so I know something like that won’t be any time soon. But still… geez, we make such a deadly pair, you know?”

Hubert softened, rubbing her back slowly. “A deadly pair… yes, we most certainly do.”

Bernadetta looked at him from under those dark lashes, grey eyes betraying her adoration, how fully comfortable she was around him. Hubert had never felt so beloved, so cherished. So human. He intended, fully, to be her husband, but it seemed there would be time before they could.

At least he could look forward to Linhardt losing the bet. Hubert had it on good authority that Caspar was planning something grand for the near future. He held Bernadetta close, the two swaying to the distant sound of music.

“Hey, Hubert?” Bernadetta said after a moment, looking up at him.

“Yes, my love?” Hubert said, smiling at her.

“I really, really love you,” she said. She rested her head against his chest, no doubt listening to the way his heart beat for her. Hubert hummed, pleased. In his contentedness, he could not become complacent. Hubert, true to his word, would spend each day making up for his various blunders to Bernadetta. He would spend each and every day cherishing her for simply being herself. 

For the rest of his life, every moment good and bad, Hubert knew that he would love Bernadetta, and there was nothing that could change that. For as long as she would have him, he would remain by her side, and that would be that.

A love story like that, he thought, was one worth crying over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you guys! the second i was done editing, i'd be posting the epilogue. and NOW it is time for me to wax poetic about how much all of this has meant to me!!!
> 
> i posted this first chapter on a whim, and updating it as i have has made me feel so so fulfilled. you might not know this about me, but i have actually never finished anything in my life... no fic, no original stories, nothing! this is my first time ever finishing something, and frankly i'm really proud of myself. i didn't expect this fic to get any attention, really. i'm well aware that hubernie is a more niche pairing, but seeing all of your comments every week has made me so so happy!!! when i say thank you for reading, i hope you know, i really mean it. you don't have to read my fic, and yet you have anyway! thank you for enjoying what i had to say about this pairing.
> 
> i'm planning on making my move back to original work after this and try finishing something like that, but i do have another big long hubernie fic in the ol google docs... i might just have the hunger to post fic again sometime soon. please let me know what you think! i know it's the very last chapter but every comment truly makes me so so happy. thank you so very much!


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